Scandal's Lady
by godfatherambs
Summary: When Jason Morgan, the Viscount of Port Charles, is called upon to fulfill a favor to an old friend, he receives more than he bargained for; an all too complicated romance and a murder with conflicting facts.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

_London, 1820_

Frowning at the grandfather clock across from her in the study, Elizabeth Webber briefly thought she was imagining the sound of a heavy knock on her door. She eased back in her chair, sliding the thin pile of papers in front of her into a neat stack before stuffing them into one of the desk drawers. She glanced at the clock again, wondering who would have the nerve to knock at half past midnight, knowing all the hecklers had given up hours ago and were off resting so they could continue tomorrow.

The knocking grew louder, fiercer, _angrier_ as she made her way out of the study, pulling the doors to the room closed behind her. She adjusted her flimsy shawl around her, clutching it tightly in one hand as she smoothed out the wrinkled material of her dress with the other. Her lips twitched when she noticed the dark stain, she assumed from tea, on the cream-colored bodice. She imagined her curls were wild and messy, matching her state of dress, and was embarrassed to greet whoever dare knock on her door at such an hour.

"Just a second," she called out, her hands shaking as she thought about the possibilities for such a late visit. It was the middle of the week, so surely it wasn't some misplaced drunkard, only leaving one option: _bad news._ "Please, just a second."

She gripped the knob tightly and pulled the door open, allowing the late night air to pour into the foyer. "May I help you?" she asked curtly, her eyes roaming over the dark figure standing on her stoop.

"I've been sent on behalf of Jeffrey Webber," he replied, his voice ragged and tired.

She drew her hands to her chest, her heart racing with the possibilities. "Did something happen?" she asked worriedly, stepping aside and ushering him in. "Is he still a-alive?" Her eyes darted around the empty streets, before closing the door and flicking the lock behind her.

Swallowing hard, she turned to face the late night visitor, who seemed oblivious to her presence. He looked relaxed in wrinkled trousers and a loose fitting white shirt as if he'd been lounging around in his own home. One of his boots was untied and his hair looked tangled as if it hadn't been brushed in days. His eyes swept around the foyer, sneaking a glance into the darkened parlor room, then down the hall that led to the study before settling on her face.

Her stomached tightened and she glanced around hurriedly, looking for a weapon if need be and silently scolding herself for letting this man into her house without so much as asking his name.

Her father would be ashamed.

"Relax," he said softly, as she stepped towards the table near the door, her hand reaching for the letter opener. "I'm not here to hurt you, _Elizabeth_."

Her name rolled off his tongue, almost _intimately_, and she found herself grabbing the letter opener regardless of his promise. "Why are you here?"

"I've been sent on behalf of Jeffrey Webber," he repeated roughly, clearing his throat as he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Do you think we could sit? I've had a long trip."

"From where?" she asked curiously, arching an eyebrow, the letter opener clutched tightly in her hand anticipating his pounce.

"Italy," he replied, his eyes dropping to the weapon in her hand. "I assure you that is not necessary."

"Must have taken you a while," she murmured, pointing down the hallway towards the study with the sharp end of the opener.

"Days," he said, walking in front of her as if he knew where he was going.

She knew she should have led him or sent him to the parlor room, but neither felt like highly appropriate actions. _However, what was appropriate about this?_ She'd just let some strange man into her home, simply because he'd mentioned her father's name, showing that she was past the point of desperation. He came to a stop outside the study, stepped to the side and waited for her to open the door.

"Sometimes it sticks," she murmured, her cheeks flushing as she fumbled awkwardly with the doorknob. "Father kept saying he was going to have it fixed, but then…"

"May I?" he asked.

She nodded, stepping back to allow him to push the doors open easily as if he'd done it a thousand times, furthering her embarrassment. As she led him into the room, he reached around her, jerking the letter opener from her hand. "Unnecessary."

She bit her tongue, only because she knew so little about the man, and hurried around to the other side of the desk, not only eager to put distance between them, but to remind him whose home he was in. "Sit," she said, pointing at the chair across from her when he lingered close to the door.

Nodding, he closed the door behind him, slowly making his way across the room. Once he sat down, he reached out and placed the letter opener on the edge of the desk, his eyes watching her intently. They were the deepest blue she'd ever seen, and she felt as if she should look away when he stared at her, but she couldn't.

Her manners told her she should offer him something to drink, maybe even food, but it was the middle of the night, and she was past the point of being civil. "How do you know my father?" she asked, noting the way his dark cerulean eyes changed almost instantly, becoming soft and bright, maybe even _nostalgic_.

"I owe him," he replied, his hands placed leisurely on the chair arms.

"For?"

"That doesn't pertain to _this_ at all."

"This?" she inquired, taking in the features of his face. His jaw line was hard and tight, making it impossible to tell if he felt anything other than annoyance and his pursed lips only added to his obvious disdain. There were creases at the corners of his eyes, as well as dark circles beneath them, leaving no doubt to whether he'd had a long trip or not.

"_You and I_," he replied mysteriously, drawing out each word.

"I think you've been misinformed on the possibility of there being a _you and I_," she stated firmly, not liking the way he looked at her, the only visible feature of any kindness.

Amusement flickered across his face as he leaned forward, a thick lock of blonde hair falling into his eyes. Had she been closer to him, she would have fought the urge to shove the offending strands from his face, and she found herself thankful there was a desk between them. He didn't seem like the type of man who'd take to being touched in such a way – or worse, maybe he was – not that she was the type of woman who would do something so intimate.

"Perhaps I was misinformed," he murmured quietly, scratching a finger over his brow. "You have a suitor?"

"You come on behalf of my father and ask me _that_," she replied, narrowing her eyes and refusing to show her humiliation. Her father had undoubtedly informed this man of the situation – that was if he had really heard from Jeffrey and wasn't someone seeking the latest gossip. Either way he knew how Elizabeth was all but being turned out into the streets, and that no man would be coming to request her hand anytime soon.

"Then nothing has changed, meaning that for the time being there is a you and I," he informed her smugly, though she might have thought he was as annoyed as she with such a possibility.

What exactly was this possibility? Her father wasn't the type of man to align her with a suitor, expecting her to comply with his wishes. Jeffrey knew she'd never agree, or maybe prison had taken a toll on him in more ways than she expected. Had he really sent a request for marriage as some kind of favor?

"How do you know my father?" she asked again.

"I owe him a favor," he repeated. "And he's called it in."

"You've spoken to him?" she asked, suddenly caring less about how exactly the man knew her father.

"Yes."

"And he's well, I presume?" Her heart tightened in her chest, waiting to hear the worst possible news, but thankfully he nodded and eased her worries. "Did he ask about me?"

"Yes."

"Do you always give such informative answers?" she asked in annoyance, shuffling more papers around on her desk, desperate to do something with her hands.

"Yes," he replied, his lip twitching in amusement as she glared at him. "You have a lot of questions."

"As anyone in my position would," she pointed out, holding his stare across the desk.

She'd always had a knack for reading people's face; knowing their thoughts and feelings, sometimes even illnesses. Her father always said his daughter had the greatest ability to look at someone and know if they were truly ill and how to cure them. She blamed him for her medical knowledge, and it was a joke between them to see who could outwit the other – behind closed doors, of course. His patients would have keeled over at the thought of his daughter giving out diagnosis, but oh how he loved having her do it.

She shivered as his eyes turned dark again, sinister even, and she hated not being able to read his face.

Once again, her father would be ashamed, and twice in one night. She was proving herself capable of great things in his absence, wasn't she?

"I imagine things have been hard for you," he said slowly, as if it pained him to give her any kind of sympathy.

"I've managed," she murmured quietly, not wanting to be judged by him or anyone else for that matter.

"Barely, or so I've heard," he replied, his words hurting her more than he could have realized. Or perhaps he did and just didn't care.

Elizabeth had been running her house all alone for several months now; the cooking, the cleaning, the books, and she wouldn't let someone downplay her abilities as if they were nothing. The staff had left days after her father's arrest, all at her dismissal simply because she refused to trust them when people probed with their questions. She had no butler or maid, had fired the cook who had been with her since she was a child, and spent the last several months almost entirely alone.

She hadn't minded really, except at night, when she would think about how different things used to be. How she used to play at her father's feet in the study as a child, eventually becoming an assistant of sorts as a young woman, and even when she _did_ have suitors lining the streets, nothing really changed about her, and perhaps that was why she was still alone.

Jeffrey always called his daughter headstrong, determined to the point of destruction, and sometimes ice cold, but only to those she met and never to him. She couldn't help it that men wanted a woman who acted as a trophy, beautiful and silent on their arm, just as she couldn't help it that she had so many things to say. Her father always told her she made men feel inferior and that such an attitude would never get her married off, but he quickly followed it up by saying he'd never change her.

Though sometimes she believed that was a lie meant to comfort her.

She always joked that she'd be alone, a spinster or a midwife, one extreme on opposite sides of the spectrum. She knew her father wanted nothing more than for her to be married off, and she'd had her chance, but it quickly fell apart, leading them to their current situation.

"Not that it's any of your business, Mr…" She felt awkward and rude not knowing his name, and she wouldn't usually have cared, but he was someone to her father, and that was the quickest way to earn her respect.

"Morgan," he filled in, arching an eyebrow and waiting her cruel reply. "Jason Morgan."

"Mr. Morgan," she started again, the familiarity of his name spinning around in her head as she tried frantically to remember where she'd heard it. "It is none of your business as to how I keep my house, and I have no idea why you are here, or if it's even for my father…Either way I doubt it was so you could come into my home and insult me."

"Well, it will be my business once you're keeping _my_ house," he corrected her, amusement flickered across his face again, giving her the urge to scream.

"What exactly are you trying to imply, Mr. Morgan?" she asked, folding her trembling hands into her lap and settling back into her chair.

"Your father wrote me," he replied, speaking slowly as if he wasn't sure she'd comprehend him. "He explained that he's awaiting trial for murder and that his only child has been left to fend for herself."

"Are you here as a suitor?" she asked wryly, her eyes widening at the possibilities.

He was handsome, that much was true, and he had nice hands; long, slender fingers and skin that looked as smooth as leather. She wondered what his palms would feel like against her and found herself blushing at such a thought. His clothes left something to be desired for, but a few hours with a tailor would easily improve his state of dress. And while his personality did leave something to be desired for, she supposed she could overlook it.

"Not a willing one," he replied annoyed, her eyes darkening at his tone. "Forgive me, but I am not here for us to be wed."

"Oh," she murmured surprised. "I see."

"Your father warned such wouldn't be possible – that you wouldn't allow it."

"He does know me well," she agreed, letting out a shaky breath, and scolding herself for even thinking such a thing could occur.

After all, her reputation surely preceded her, and if it hadn't, Mr. Morgan would manage to hear his fill before getting out of London. Her father's trial was a hot topic in all the presses; in the papers, at the markets, and among the high society gossipers.

"I must admit, I'm relieved," he replied, raking his hand through his hair, his eyes still fixed on hers. "I don't wish to force a woman into anything, especially a marriage."

"But you are here to force me into something?"

"Perhaps."

"What makes you think I will comply?"

"Do you have any other choice?"

"Do you think I will allow some stranger to back me into a corner?"

"I think you've backed yourself into one," he muttered, rolling his eyes at her and causing her to scowl.

"So, how exactly are you going to save me?" she asked, leaning over the desk. "How much is it going to cost my father?"

"Your father wishes for you to leave London," he replied, tapping a slender finger on the arm of the chair. "And as I already stated, I am here on behalf of a favor I owe Jeffrey."

"Leave London?" she asked quietly, dropping her eyes to her lap and shaking her head. This had been her home her entire life, and while her father had told her when he was arrested that it would be best if she left, she refused. It was terrible enough that her father was paying for someone else's mistake. "That's impossible."

"You have no reason to stay," he said dryly, challenging her with a look when she started to protest. "You have a woman who takes pity on you, coming to your house once a week in exchange for pounds you can't afford to pay her. She brings your food, your letters, and any other supplies you need because you are too terrified to leave the house. She's either too loyal for her own good or waiting to hear the kind of gossip that will get her name in the presses."

"Everyone in town is watching you closely, waiting for you to slip up and confirm that your father is a murderer. Not to mention that once this goes to trial, you _will_ be called as a witness, and you _will_ put your father away for murder."

She swallowed hard, her eyes brimming with tears as he hit her with one truth after the other. "You don't know-"

"I know you would never lie – that Jeffrey Webber didn't raise his daughter to do such a thing."

"What makes you so sure he's guilty?"

"Is he innocent?"

"I know as much – or as little – as you do."

"The truth is in your eyes," he said, grinning as if he saw something that no one else did.

"I think you should go," she hissed, getting up in such a hurry that she nearly knocked her chair to the floor. "You've come into my father's home and insulted his only daughter, in more ways than necessary. I do not need you to-"

"He wrote me and asked me to come," he cut in, getting up from the chair as she crossed the room to the doors, showing him out. "Otherwise, I would be at my estate in Italy, enjoying the stars and the spring air, and not in your dreadful company."

"I imagine with a wench on your arm also," she said, her hands on his hips as she stood next to the doors, silently asking him to go.

"Is there any other way to go about life?" he asked, smirking and though she wasn't sure, he may have even winked.

He disgusted her.

"You don't care to know what your father asked of me?"

She stiffened as he stepped closer, his body just inches from her, and if she allowed herself to, she would be able to smell him, that clean, soapiness that wrapped around a _real_ man.

Not that she knew much about it really – just that they smelled very nice. Or so she imagined.

"He wants me to leave London," she replied, refusing to look up at him. "You're supposed to play a part in that."

"If you leave, you can have the life you wished to have had here," he said, stepping closer, and she knew he wouldn't have stopped if she hadn't tipped her head back to meet his gaze.

"What life is that?"

"A family?"

"Perhaps."

"Suitors."

She grunted at his statement. "Who would wish to marry Jeffrey Webber's daughter?"

"Someone, or so you hope," he replied, his mouth turning into a crooked grin. She couldn't decide if he was laughing with her or at her, and seeing as she refused to laugh, she had no choice but to be offended.

"You expect me to leave London and allow you to take me…"

"To Italy."

"Italy?" she asked, her lips parting in genuine surprise.

"He wrote that you've always wanted to visit, so why not start a new life there?"

"Because I cannot."

"Because you're afraid."

Her jaw ticked as she pushed passed him, hurrying into the hall towards the foyer. "I cannot abandon my father when he is awaiting trial. What will everyone think if I disappear?"

"That he's guilty."

"Exactly," she growled, fumbling with the lock on the front door as Mr. Morgan came up behind her, his hand holding the door closed as she tried to open it.

"Or they will think you are dead," he murmured, his voice low and husky, his lips tickling the outer shell of her ear. "No one is going to look for you, Elizabeth, and you know this."

"You are mad," she spat, turning around to find herself pressed up against the door, the man not allowing her a way out.

"Or you can stay here where eventually, the few people you've called your friends, will run you out of the city themselves," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded envelope. "The letter from your father."

"You're allowing me to read it?"

"It's surely the only way to settle this stubbornness of yours," he answered, dropping his hands from the door and giving her a chance to step away from him.

She froze briefly, smoothing her fingertips over her father's familiar script on the front of the envelope, her eyes welling up with tears. "Oh, how I miss him," she murmured, mostly to herself.

"He misses you as well," Mr. Morgan said, ushering her aside and opening the front door. "I have an assistant who has traveled with me. In the letter, you'll find permission for us to stay here for the evening and until…" His voice trailed off as he hurried outside, and she stepped onto the stoop, the first time she'd been outside in days, and watched him make his way towards the two carriages parked on the street.

A curtain moved in a house across the way, and she dipped back inside the second she realized she was being watched, knowing that word would spread tomorrow that Elizabeth Webber was allowing strange men into her home. They would call her a whore, bought and paid for, and Mr. Morgan was right; she would be run out of town before the end of the month.

"Mr. Damien Spinelli," Mr. Morgan said, upon reentering the house and motioning towards the small, frail man at his side.

He was dressed as poorly, a rumpled stable boy's hat on his head. It was hardly the appropriate dress for an assistant, but Mr. Morgan clearly didn't mind.

"Fair Elizabeth, it is an honor to meet the daughter of such a famous and beloved medicine man," the assistant muttered awkwardly, and she couldn't help but grin sincerely.

"He would be pleased to know that people are still referring to him as such," she replied, as he lowered two trunks to the floor.

She looked outside to see the house across the street, knowing she was still being watched. "If this is it, I'll show you to-"

"No need," Mr. Morgan interrupted, motioning for Mr. Spinelli to pick up the trunks. "If I remember correctly, the room at the top of the stairs would be yours and the guests are at the far end, near where the maid sleeps, or slept rather."

"How do you-"

"Come, Spinelli," he ordered, ushering him towards the stairs and pausing at the bottom to give Elizabeth a long look. "Read the letter. I expect you to comply with your father's wishes by tomorrow morning. Once you do, we'll leave for Italy as soon as possible."

"And if I do not?"

He arched an eyebrow, grunting as if she had no other choice. "Well, Elizabeth, I suppose we'll have to work through our differences."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_London, 1820_

…_As you know, I was more than happy to oblige you so many years ago, and I never intended on calling upon you to fulfill the favor you promised me. However this isn't about holding onto pride or proving myself in any way, it is about my daughter, and for that, I must do anything I can…_

…_When Johnny last managed to visit, he informed me that he'd sent word to you about the current situation. I am embarrassed to admit that the allegations are not entirely false, and I fear that my daughter's life will be defined by this particular mistake…_

…_I write to ask you to accompany my dear Elizabeth to Italy. The family wealth is more than enough to allow her to start over, and I feel comfortable knowing she has someone so trustworthy to accompany her on such a journey…_

Elizabeth pressed the letter to her lips as if she could breathe in some part of her father that existed within the page. She could no longer blink back the tears that burned her eyes and was embarrassed that she'd managed to smear her father's handwriting, and that Mr. Morgan would know she cried while reading it.

…_I could never ask you to extend your hand for marriage – not because I don't find you an adequate enough suitor – if anyone could love and honor my daughter, it is the Viscount of Port Charles. Oh, who knew you'd ever be capable of such great things? I like to think I knew all along. Anyway, I am well aware that Elizabeth would never agree to marry a stranger. I long ago promised her she would marry for love, knowing she was too headstrong to do it for any other reason…_

…_I hope that this letter finds you well, and if for any reason, you are unable to fulfill my request, please send word to Johnny, and we will formulate a new plan of action. _

_Sincerely, _

_Jeffrey Webber _

The sun had risen hours ago, and she'd barely slept at all, spending most of the night pacing back and forth in the study as she continuously read the letter. Batting her wet cheeks with an old handkerchief, she swept her eyes over the letter one last time before folding it and placing it on the desk in front of her. She hoped by dawn to have made a decision, telling herself that this was about her, not the stranger upstairs or her father, but after reading, she wasn't so sure anymore. Her father's request was so clear, and she didn't know if she had it in her to blatantly go against his wishes.

She'd always been the kind of woman to go against the grain, even as a young child, but so much had changed. She could argue her way with her father over just about anything, except this time he wasn't here for the fight. He was off trying to do what he believed to be honorable, and running across Europe with some strange man seemed like the least honorable thing Elizabeth could do in return.

Well, she supposed Mr. Morgan wasn't a stranger by any means, at least not to her father, but that didn't comfort her any less. Jeffrey spoke so highly of him in the letter that she wondered just how long it had been since her father had last seen this man. She unfolded the letter, skimming the paragraph that surely stroked Mr. Morgan's ego when he read it, and she found herself disgusted. If only her father could have heard him insulting her last night – most likely on purpose – he would have choked on his words.

And to think, _he was a Viscount of all things._

Rolling her eyes, she tucked the letter back into the envelope refusing to pour over it one last time. It sickened her to think that her father actually expected her to leave town with this man, who clearly cared less about how she really felt about anything. She was used to men being so self-involved and selfish, but Mr. Morgan may have been one of the worst she'd ever met; coming into her home with his demands and tiny man at his side, expecting her to comply because he was someone to her father.

Oh, how she loathed him.

Clutching the letter in her hand, she stared down at her father's script, her heart telling her she just couldn't go along with what he wanted, while her mind was fierce in knowing that she should. He would never abandon her in a time of need, and she felt so wrong in even contemplating leaving him. Mr. Morgan had made a point; she would be called as a witness, but whether or not she put her father in prison was yet to be determined.

After all, there were so many sides to the story.

She jumped, her eyes flashing to the door as someone knocked, and her entire body tensed knowing it was Mr. Morgan. Clearly he was incapable of conducting himself like a normal person, always having to be louder and fiercer than the rest.

"One second," she called out, glancing at herself in the mirror across the room.

Her face was flushed, eyes puffy and red from crying, and she was still wearing the same dress he'd seen her in last night. She did her best to pin her hair away from her face and neck, knowing that it was impossible to do in a matter of seconds.

She dried her tears and hurried towards the door as his knocking continued. "You are the most impatient man," she muttered, fiddling with the lock before pulling the door open.

"I dislike having to wait," he said, her eyes going wide when she realized he'd heard her.

Then again, she wondered why she was so surprised. He seemed like the type of man to lurk and listen.

"Well, you barely gave me a second," she replied, stumbling over her words.

"I told you by morning," he murmured, arching his eyebrows expectantly.

"If you must," she said, waving him into the room with a shaky hand.

"Spinelli and I helped ourselves to the kitchen," he replied, holding his hands at the waist of his snug breeches.

Oh, why did she have to notice such a thing? She blushed, but really she'd only noticed because he was dressed more together than he had been the night before. His shirt was loose, but unwrinkled and clean; his shoes neatly tied at his feet.

"That's fine," she murmured, almost feeling guilty for not giving him or Mr. Spinelli something the night before. "It isn't as if the cook is coming anytime soon."

He grinned crookedly, looking away as if he didn't want her to see his amusement. "Are you as good in the kitchen as you are with the rest of the house?" Her eyes darkened, not sure whether he was insulting her or paying a compliment. "The beds were nicely made."

"Thank you," she said, not sure how to take him. Maybe the trip had just left him winded and he needed a good night's sleep to act like a human being. "And to answer your question, I manage in the kitchen the best way I know how."

His eyes twinkled, and she could see the challenge before it ever left his lips. "Perhaps you could prepare us a dinner this evening – if you think you could manage."

Never mind, he was still very much the man she assumed him to be.

"We will still be here tonight?" she asked, dropping her gaze to the letter in her hand.

"You tell me," he murmured, leaning against the desk and clasping his hands in his lap.

"You're offering me a choice," she said, not understanding the sudden change in attitude.

"I assumed you'd put up a fight."

"Well, yes, of course, but…"

She hadn't expected him to ask for her opinion and imagined he wouldn't hesitate to throw her over his shoulder if need be. Not knowing what else to do, she held out the letter, feeling the need to get rid of it.

"You read it?" he asked, turning the envelope around in his hands.

"Several times."

He nodded, glancing down at the front of it. "The ink is smeared."

"I was upset."

He grunted, and she instantly felt nothing but the desire to get rid of him. The only question was how.

"Are you always this way?" she asked, crossing her hands over her chest. He tipped his head in her direction, giving her a curious smile. "So unemotional and brooding – it doesn't suit you very well."

"And you know what would suit me?" he countered, folding the envelope in half and tucking it into his pants.

She took a deep breath, running through all possible retorts; a wench, a lashing – verbal and otherwise, or maybe just a look in the mirror. "I think it would be highly improper to travel across the country with some strange man," she swallowed, telling herself to keep with the task at hand. "I'm sure that word has already spread that the young Webber whore has-"

"Must you say that?" he groaned, shaking his head.

"It is what they say about me," she shrugged, "or did you not know just who you are willing to sneak out of London?"

"I highly doubt that Jeffrey's daughter is a woman of such…"

"You know nothing about Jeffrey's daughter," she said, holding his gaze. "And she refuses to be carted away into the night as if she has done something wrong." She sighed heavily, feeling weakened from having spent the entire night constantly going over what to do. "I am my father's only means of support, Mr. Morgan. I would never feel right sneaking away and leaving him to fend for himself."

"You'll be called as a witness," he reminded her, narrowing his eyes. "Or is that what you want?"

"I don't know what you're trying to imply," she murmured, looking away from him as she started to pace in the room. "I only want my father…"

"Free?" he asked, pushing himself up from the desk. It was then that she noticed the newspaper tucked under his arm. He carefully unrolled it, facing the headline towards her. "You are not the only person who seems to think that Jeffrey is innocent."

"I don't know what he is," she replied quietly, taking the paper from his hand, her eyes skimming through the short article.

…_an individual who has served the public of London for years upon years…his integrity is being called into question, and it's upsetting just how many believe this man is capable of committing such an ugly act…perhaps, one should be asking why exactly Lucas Spencer was…_

"Is he innocent?" Mr. Morgan asked bluntly.

Elizabeth shifted her eyes from the paper, knowing that regardless of what she said, he would know the truth. "Does it matter?" she asked, rolling the paper back up and handing it to him. "Richard Lansing will make sure my father is convicted."

"Is he innocent?" he asked again, refusing to let her avoid his question.

"I'm afraid I know nothing, Mr. Morgan," she replied, her eyes filling with tears. "I do know that you cannot ask me to leave London – not now anyway."

He grew silent and still as if contemplating her statement, and she wondered if he wanted to stay as badly as she did. "Your devotion to your father doesn't surprise me."

Her eyes widened when he didn't fight her, and she wasn't sure how to reply. "Then you'll leave me be. If I am called as a witness so be it, but I really do know nothing, and-"

"I can't leave you," he interrupted seriously. "Your father asked me to look out for you, and that will not change."

"So, what? Are you going to stay here in this house and hover over my every move?"

"It's not an overly large house. I'm sure I can hear what goes on from any of the rooms," he replied, giving her a pleased smile. "For example, you pace far too loudly for a lady."

"They have a name for men like you," she hissed, stopping mid-pace as she thought of Mr. Morgan hovering outside the study door.

"What kind of man is that?" he asked, and she knew he was only humoring her.

"The kind who listens in on a lady in private."

"Do share this name."

She gritted her teeth and stepped towards him, her hands clenched in a fist. "Scoundrel."

He rolled his eyes, letting out a chuckle. "I would have expected better from you."

"Oh, you," she spat, turning her back to him, more determined than ever to get him to leave. "This will never work. You cannot move into my home and expect me to welcome you, regardless of what my father desires. This is my home, and it's full of things that belong to me, and you have no right to any of it." She spun back around, glaring fiercely. "And – and it's entirely improper to have some dirty, crude Viscount living with a young lady!"

"I may be crude, but I am hardly dirty," he murmured, waving his hand at her as he started for the door. "When you are finished with this tantrum of yours, we'll-"

"I am not having a tantrum," she cut in, following after him as he continued down the hallway. "I refuse to co-exist with you in any form because it's inappropriate. My name is tarnished enough in the streets and I won't have it furthered by the likes of you, and seeing as you are so unwilling to make it appropriate you have no choice but to leave."

She let out a gasp as he spun around to face her, an impish grin on his lips. "Are you saying you want to make it appropriate, Elizabeth?"

"What?" she asked, backing away from him, but of course, he only stepped forward.

"If I must be made an honest man, why not be forced into it," he shrugged, his grin widening by the second.

"Are you mad?" she cried, shaking with anger, part of her wondering if this was what he wanted all along. "Are you broke? Do you need money? What happened to honoring my father's wishes regarding Italy?"

"Your father's already given his approval for us to be wed, so there's no need to dance around it."

"Oh, my memory briefly failed me," she hissed, rolling her eyes. "You are such an _honorable_ and _loving_ man, Jason Morgan. Why wouldn't I want to marry you?"

He grunted in agreement. "Then, it's settled," he nodded, turning down the hall and calling for Spinelli, leaving an infuriated Elizabeth behind him. "We can be married immediately."

"How dare you!" she growled, following after him, not caring that they were now standing in the kitchen with his assistant as a witness. "You have no right to turn this arrangement around on me."

Mr. Morgan laughed boisterously, as he lifted a cup of tea from the counter and gave Spinelli an apologetic look. "There's no need to be nervous. People have arranged marriages all the time."

"You are well aware this is trickery," she cried, fighting the urge to shove his cup of tea right into his face. "It must be some kind of favor you owe my father if you're willing to marry a woman who completely despises you!"

"It won't be all bad once we get over our initial differences," he murmured, setting his cup onto the counter. "Don't they say a marriage is about compromise or something like that? It won't be all bad. You'll be _my_ wife, so you'll have to comply to _my_ ways."

"If you think that just because I take some vow you're going to haul me over your shoulder…" She paused, her face reddening as she looked over at his assistant and lowered her voice. "If you think you're going to take – take me to – to bed, you-"

"I would never take a woman," he cut in, looking deeply insulted as he smirked. "I'd make her _want_ it first, but taking you to bed is the least of my concerns next to your father's case."

"Oh, I knew it!" she exclaimed, her mouth falling open in disbelief. "None of this is about me, is it? You wanted to stay in London."

"I know your father, and he would never murder someone, regardless of circumstance, and I'm going to prove it," he said firmly, picking up his tea. "Your refusal to leave has complied with my wish to extricate Jeffrey."

_Oh, damn him. _

She couldn't marry him, just as he couldn't start sticking his nose into her father's case, even if he felt like it was his business. It just wasn't. The city was buzzing with enough gossip about her father and Mr. Morgan's dominating presence – it was clear he wasn't going to be quiet about any of it – would only add fuel to the blazing fire.

"And this supposed marriage?" she asked huffily, her mind racing with possibilities.

He shrugged, walking out of the room and waving for Spinelli to follow him. She was beginning to wonder if the tiny man ever talked or if he was some kind of lap dog for Mr. Morgan. "It's just a little fun to pass the time."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_London, 1820_

"Spinelli, I need you to stay at the house," Jason murmured, glancing towards the kitchen, half expecting Elizabeth to come after him, still displeased with his request.

It wasn't as if he wanted to marry the young woman, but if she was going to be so persistent about what was proper and what wasn't, it made sense to get their lives in order before they moved forward. He'd expected a difficult woman, any spawn of Jeffrey's would be, but her fiery attitude had caught him off guard. Most women weren't willing to give as much as they got, and he couldn't help but enjoy her wit, even if he was always a step or two ahead.

"Any particular reason?" the young man asked, almost always accompanying Jason wherever he went, unless it was to a pub.

"Keep an eye on her," he replied, letting out a heavy sigh as he looked towards the kitchen again. He'd known her for less than a day, but his gut told him she couldn't be trusted, that she would try and one up before the sun set. "She's fairly upset, and I don't want her to do something brash on my watch."

"Er, sir," Spinelli said, sliding his hand beneath his hat and scratching at his unkempt hair. "While I am pleased to honor the Viscount of Port Charles' wishes, I'm not so sure I could prevent Fair Elizabeth from doing something erratic and wild." He paused, his eyes widening with speculation. "What exactly do you suppose she is capable of? Aren't these society woman supposed to-"

He went silent as the front door opened and a blonde woman hurried inside, clutching an oversized bag at her side, her blonde curls neatly pinned beneath a bonnet. She noticed them immediately and froze, glancing around just as Elizabeth had the night before for a weapon.

"Who are you?" she asked loudly, her eyes sweeping around the foyer and looking for Elizabeth.

"I am one Damien Spinelli," his assistant answered, nodding politely. "And this is Jason Morgan, the Viscount-"

"Who are you?" Jason interrupted, shooting Spinelli a glare.

While he had expected for Elizabeth to object to the idea of leaving London, he hadn't been prepared for her to somewhat accept an offer to stay, even though it was what he'd hoped for. She'd pegged him from the start, and he didn't mind, because like her, he wanted Jeffrey Webber free, but he didn't want everyone in town knowing such. Actually until that very moment, he hadn't thought about how much of his face he would have to hide and having Spinelli toss around his name would surely cause unnecessary problems.

"Elizabeth!" she cried worriedly, her face filling with fear.

The brunette raced into the foyer seconds later, her face flushed and cheeks wet, and Jason felt guilty for upsetting her, but quickly reminded himself that she had set all of this in motion.

"Carly, please," she said quietly, sneaking a glance at Jason with the bluest eyes he'd ever seen.

Had she been any woman he'd met on the street or in a pub, he'd have chased her skirt around the city until she gave in. From the second he'd laid eyes on her the night before, he'd had to remind himself that this was Jeffrey Webber's daughter. Even if she was one of the most attractive women he'd seen in a while, she was _not_ his for the taking.

"I was honestly hoping that the rumors I heard at the market this morning were not true," the blonde muttered, holding a hand to her lips.

"What – Oh, I don't want to hear any of it," Elizabeth said, shaking her head and smoothing her hands over the front of her dress. "Where are my manners? Carly, this is Mr. Jason Morgan and his assistant, Mr. Damien Spinelli."

Jason managed a weak smile, thankful that she'd refrained from referring to him by his status, though he had a feeling she didn't want anyone to know who he was either.

"Your names tell me nothing," the woman stated defensively, looking them over.

He understood where she was coming from; that this was the woman who had been looking after Elizabeth since her father was arrested and probably long before then, but her demeanor left a lot to be desired for.

"Father wr-wrote to Mr. Morgan," the brunette said, trying to subtly shove a loose curl into a pin.

It only added to her nervous appearance; something about which he found very charming, and could only mean that the trip from Italy had taken too long.

Elizabeth stiffened, rubbing a hand over her chest. "He's asked – he's asked for my hand, and I've accepted," she swallowed. Jason could practically see her knees shaking beneath her skirt. "So I can assure you whatever rumors you may have heard are entirely false."

"I was last here this time yesterday," Carly replied, looking at her in disbelief. "How is it possible that suddenly you're engaged?"

"He arrived late last night," she answered, stepping towards the stairs in hopes that the woman would follow her.

"Did he ask immediately?" she asked, shifting her eyes to Jason. "Did you ask her immediately? The poor woman is still in her dress from yesterday and-"

"Carly, please," Elizabeth pleaded desperately, dropping her gaze when he tried to meet her eye. "What I was wearing when he proposed hardly matters."

"Of course it does!" she exclaimed, glaring at Jason as she stepped past him and Spinelli. "Elizabeth Webber, what am I going to do with you? Allowing strange men into your home and getting engaged to one of them. Your father-"

"Knows," the brunette hissed, clutching her skirt in her hands as she hurried up the stairs, muttering under her breath. "…no right, Carly…acting as if I'm a child…"

She glanced over her shoulder when she reached the top of the stairs, her hands still fisted in her skirt, and he had a feeling that the look of annoyance in her eyes would be one he'd come to know very well.

"Ask her if she needs anything, and if she does, you get it," Jason said, striding towards the door.

"Shall I post at her door or-"

"No," he interrupted disgustedly, not sure if he wanted to hear what Elizabeth had to say behind closed doors. "Whatever she has to say to that dreadful woman is her business." He opened the door and glanced at Spinelli one last time. "I'm just meeting up with an old friend. I should be back in a couple of hours." He hesitated to leave the man alone with her, but this was the same person he'd entrusted with all his wealth and land in Italy. "Just do your best. That's all I ask of you."

With that, Jason hurried out the door before he talked himself into staying.

It felt like a lifetime ago that Jason had last been in London, and in a way it was. He wasn't used to the hustle and bustle of the city, but he wasn't going to complain because it allowed him to mix into the crowd unnoticed. His past was his biggest worry when it came to staying in London, but his identity being uncovered was less important than freeing Jeffrey Webber.

The man had helped him when he needed it the most, and Jason would be damned before he'd let the good doctor rot in prison, or worse, be hanged, especially for a crime he didn't commit. From the moment he'd first received the letter he couldn't believe it, and after looking into Elizabeth's eyes he knew it wasn't true.

While her exact knowledge of her father's case was yet to be determined, he knew if he pressured her in any way, she'd shut him out completely, so he'd have to be patient. _Even if it killed him,_ and judging from their encounter that morning in the house, it just might. He didn't mind a little attitude in a woman or even wit, but it was when they thought they were clever enough to pull the wool over his eyes that Jason got upset, which was why he'd turn the entire situation around on her.

Hence, the engagement.

He had many expectations for London, but leaving the city a married man was the farthest down on his list. Jeffrey had made it clear in the letter that Elizabeth wouldn't want to marry someone if she didn't love them, and apparently he hadn't thought about his daughter using an unwanted marriage as a way to run Jason off. It was blasphemous to make a mockery of such an important union, but he couldn't remember not ever living his life in sin anyway.

Besides, once he looked past her poor attitude and obvious disdain for life, Elizabeth was rather attractive and smart. She was the kind of woman who could keep him on his toes and look good while doing it, and if he allowed himself he might even enjoy being married to such a woman, but he wasn't allowing himself to think it was going to be some grand, fun adventure that ended with love and all those trite emotions.

No, Elizabeth would do her damnedest to make their marriage a living hell, and he'd give it as much in return. Hopefully by the time her father was released they would have some kind of agreement in tact, and he could head back to Italy immediately and leave her with the life she wanted. Her name would be tarnished and no man would ever look at her as a marital prospect, but Jason doubted they would regardless if her father was proved innocent or not. Gossip did enough to ruin a person these days.

Part of him almost felt guilty for tricking the poor girl into marrying him, knowing that when it was said and done, she'd be left alone with no one except her father, but it wasn't like it was feasible for them to find some kind of wedded bliss. He wasn't the type of man to get caught up in a woman, and he was only doing this as a favor, and he imagined any prolonged exposure to Elizabeth's personality would drive him mad. That alone was reason enough for Jason to free her father and hurry back to where he belonged.

"My eyes must be failing me," a familiar voice called out, leaning against the doorframe of a large stone mansion.

Jason had been so caught up in his thoughts that he'd paid little attention to the fact that he'd arrived at his destination. His feet had led him to the familiar home without so much as a second thought, weaving through several alleys and taking one of the dirt roads that led to the outskirts of town. It was a relief to be away from the busy city and find himself nearing the countryside, and he wished he was living out here instead of at the Webber estate.

"I don't believe they are," Johnny Zacharra murmured, shaking his head as Jason grew closer to the house. "I take it you got the doctor's letter."

"Of course," he said, holding out his hand. "I'd have been here sooner, but Italy is…"

"A _lifetime_ away," he filled in, shaking his head excitedly. "I always wondered if Jason Morgan would return to London."

Jason laughed, following him into the house. "If only the circumstances could be different."

His old friend nodded quietly, motioning him towards the back of the house to the study. "If only."

It had been ten years since the two friends had last seen one another, and they'd done their best to keep in contact through telegrams and letters, but saved such forms of communications for important and dire times. Jason knew very much about Johnny's life; the family business was strong and intact, his wife and children were doing wonderfully. Jason couldn't help, but feel a bit sad when he thought about all he'd missed. It was moments like these when he started to resent his situation, but Jason didn't have a choice; he _had_ to leave London.

"You are well?" Jason asked, sitting down in an oversized armchair and forcing a smile at his friend. He wasn't surprised that it felt awkward being in front of Johnny after all these years, and he wanted the distance between them to just disappear.

"As well as I always am," he nodded, glancing towards the doorway when a servant appeared. "Would you like a drink, some food, anything?" He shook his head, and Johnny quickly dismissed the help, closing the door behind him, and turned his attention to Jason. "How long have you been in London?"

"Since last night," he replied, settling back against the cushions. "I arrived at the Webber estate after midnight. It was a rough night's rest, followed by a rough morning."

Johnny smirked, an amused glint in his eye. "You showed up on Elizabeth Webber's doorstep after midnight?"

"Yes."

He chuckled loudly as he sat down across from him. "After all these years, you still have no sense about you."

"I'm offended," he muttered, rolling his eyes.

From the second that Johnny married, he seemed to think he had surpassed Jason on levels of decency, but he hadn't forgotten about all the trouble they had caused in the city during their younger days. He may be the married man with the wife and children now, but in his youth, Johnny _might_ have taken more women than Jason.

Granted, he was married to Nadine, one of the most gorgeous women either of them had ever seen. So beautiful that Johnny says he fell for her the second he laid eyes on her, and it must have been worth it because he was practically turned away from his family for marrying a woman whose own title didn't match his own. Thankfully, his sister used to be – and probably still was – a town whore and his father didn't have the choice of another heir. Only true love would allow a man to put his entire fortune and namesake on the line – unless he was an idiot, and Johnny Zacharra was no idiot.

"You showed up on that poor girl's doorstep," he said, resting his elbows on the chair arms. "She's been alone for months, except for that woman – her name fails me-"

"Carly," Jason interjected, grimacing at the thought of her. She'd come into the Webber home as if it were her own and started ordering Elizabeth around immediately.

That would surely have to change.

"Yes, Carly," he murmured, nodding his head. "A strange man that she doesn't know-"

"She knew me."

"She doesn't remember."

"_She will." _

Johnny arched an eyebrow and leaned forward. "What exactly did you tell her?"

"You know of Jeffrey's wishes?"

"To take her away?" Jason nodded and his friend stood from the chair and started to pace about the room. "He mentioned the idea when he was first imprisoned, and had I not been married, I would have taken Elizabeth and left London. It's been hell on her."

"You've seen her?" he asked curiously, wondering why Johnny would scold him for showing up randomly if he had too.

"No," he answered, folding his arms over his chest. "Carly talks enough to everyone in town, and I know that she's well, but between my duties and family…"

"You haven't the time," Jason filled in.

"It's one of the most talked about murders ever in London," he replied seriously, walking over to the window and peering out onto his property.

He was several years younger than Jason, but standing in the window, looked older, like more of a man. Being an Earl, a husband, and a father suited him well. He'd spent so much of his youth trying to get out of this home and away from his father, and now here he was settled into it and making it his own. Jason's chest practically swelled with pride. He always knew he would live a rather lonesome life, but knew that wasn't what Johnny wanted, and he sometimes worried what would happen to his friend if Johnny had ended up alone.

"Nadine is worried if I get too involved Lansing will start trouble, and my father was watched enough by the law and the king…"

"I understand," Jason muttered, "but I will require your help."

"Help?" he asked, turning around to face him.

"I don't believe he's guilty."

"Neither do I," he shrugged half-heartedly. "Not all the money and power in London will stop Lansing."

"I'm determined," he said firmly, getting up from the chair. "We owe him."

"I know," he murmured guiltily, turning back to the window. His shoulders tensed, years of baggage weighing down on him, and Jason suddenly felt wrong for reminding him. It wasn't as if either of them would forget how Jeffrey helped them.

Jason stepped up beside him, his eyes sweeping over the acres and acres of land on his estate. He briefly missed his own home and the peace it brought him. "No one has to know you are helping me. I want to keep my face and name as far from any of this as possible, but I'll need your face and name to do so."

Johnny nodded thoughtfully, his eyes fluttering closed briefly and Jason knew he was thinking about the past and every choice that had brought them to this moment. "Whatever you need."

"If you could start with what happened."

"I've done my best to gather information, mostly by word of mouth, which is just about as trustworthy as the press," he replied, continuing to stare out the window. "Lansing has made it known that he intends on seeing that Jeffrey is hanged."

"Why so forceful?" Jason asked, gritting his teeth at his friend's words, unable to appreciate such unkind words about someone he knew was a good man.

"I can't say for sure, but from what I've gathered – this is from Jeffrey himself," he replied, crossing the room back to his chair. "Lansing wished to be a suitor for Elizabeth, wished to marry her, wanted Jeffrey's word, but the young woman didn't care much for him. And he had no desire to force-"

"Her to marry if not for love," Jason cut in with a heavy sigh, wondering if her father would disprove of what he'd done that morning.

"Lansing was jealous, and he's made it known that if Elizabeth would have married him, even when Jeffrey was first arrested, he would have covered it up," he said, causing Jason to stiffen. "I don't imagine Elizabeth knows about that offer though."

"I won't tell her," he replied, feeling the urge to protect her from such knowledge. Something told him that if Elizabeth found out about Lansing trying to buy her father's freedom, she may not turn it down. She seemed so willing to do whatever it would take, even marrying a practical stranger in Jason, who only hoped to free him. Lansing could, and he was disgusted with the idea of her marrying some obsessed fool.

"The man that Jeffrey supposedly murdered, Lucas Spencer was-"

"Lucas Spencer?"

"You may not remember him," Johnny said, looking over at him. "Rumors say he was a suitor for Elizabeth too. Jeffrey hasn't confirmed such to me, but…"

"You just know he was," he replied, clenching his fists. Elizabeth obviously knew _a lot_ more than she was letting on. "But if he was to possibly marry his daughter, why would he-"

"Exactly," he interrupted with a curt nod, rising suddenly from his chair and hurrying over to the study door. "Nadine is home with the children. They went into town this morning…" His voice trailed off as he opened the door, and Jason knew their conversation was over for now.

As soon as she opened the door, three small boys came barreling into the room and threw themselves at Johnny's legs.

"Relax boys," came Nadine's voice, and Jason found himself smiling at the familiarity. She paused in the doorway, letting out a gasp before she rushed into the room, shifting a baby in her arms. "Jason Morgan, what are you doing here?"

As soon as he stood, she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd been embraced so warmly. "You look as wonderful as ever," he murmured, releasing her from his arms and smiling at the baby.

"A girl," she exclaimed, arching her eyebrows at Jason as he looked down at the chubby, dark-haired infant. "Can you believe it? After all these years, I was starting to think that something was wrong with-"

"Oh, that's enough," Johnny groaned, trying to pry the boys from his legs as he did his best to quiet his wife.

"She's beautiful," Jason said, shaking his head at the chaos that had filled the room.

"Thank you," she replied, grinning down at the baby. "Now, please share why you've decided to grace us with your presence." He cleared his throat awkwardly, not sure what he should and shouldn't tell Nadine about wanting to free Jeffrey. "Ah, of course. All of London is talking about it, you know."

"That's what Johnny tells me," he said, snickering as the boys ran out of the room, their father having muttered something about the cook having baked a cake.

"They'll spoil their supper," she scolded playfully.

He gave his wife a loopy grin as he walked over. "I didn't know what else to do with them. They're so rambunctious. I can't imagine where they get it from."

"Well, I know quite a few stories that just might remind you." Johnny glared playfully, reaching out to smooth his hand over the back of his daughter's head. "Jason, are you staying with us? I know Johnny and would love-"

"He's staying at the Webber estate," her husband interrupted, laughing as shock came over his wife's face.

"Are you leaving with her?" Nadine asked, holding a hand to her mouth as soon as the words left her lips. She glanced at her husband. "Sorry, I know that your visits with Jeffrey are supposed to be private, and I probably shouldn't be privy to-"

"It's fine," Johnny interrupted, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "You asked a good question." He looked curiously at Jason. "You seem to have a lot of plans for a short trip…"

He caught his friend's drift, but wasn't sure how to answer. "I believe we're staying," he said hesitantly, feeling nervous about telling them about the engagement.

"Did you tame the Elizabeth Webber attitude that quickly?" he asked, slipping the baby from his wife's arms as she started to fuss.

"No, but I plan on it," he replied, turning around nervously, unable to look his friend in the face.

"How do you plan on doing such?" he asked, cradling the baby to his chest and patting her gently on the back.

"Uh, the oldest possible way," Jason answered, spinning on his heels to look at his two oldest friends.

He was relieved that Johnny didn't understand where he was going with it, but his wife figured it out almost instantly.

"Jason Morgan is not an honest man," Nadine laughed, folding her arms over her chest. "Or is he? You remember my Aunt Rayleen – and she always said the quickest way to tame a wild heart is by love."

"Love?" Johnny gasped, catching on. "Are you planning on-"

"We're engaged as of this morning," Jason interrupted, breaking into a sweat as he said the words aloud.

"Does her father know?" Nadine cried, holding her hand over her mouth. "I'm not laughing at you, Jason. I'm really not, but Jeffrey knows what kind of man you are…"

He almost wished the words had come from Johnny's mouth so he could have not so playfully replied, but his friend's wife was right. "It was rather accidental. I came with the intention of watching out for her just as I was asked," he admitted, trying to talk his way around what had happened. "She doesn't wish to leave, and while I don't wish to stay…One moment she was implying it was improper of her to live with me, and it wasn't as if I couldn't go anywhere, so…"

Scratching his brow, he dropped his gaze to the floor, suddenly feeling like he was going to be interrogated, or worse, Nadine would just figure it all out even before he did. He didn't want to marry the damn woman, but he had to look out for her, and at least this way he knew she wouldn't try to run away or give him too much hell.

Nadine smirked, shaking her head as she held out her arms for the now quiet infant girl. "Or maybe you are so lonely in that Italian villa of yours that you chose a girl, someone just as lonely as you, and tricked her into marrying you."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

_London, 1820_

"Damn that stupid man," Elizabeth muttered, wiping sweat from her brow as she leaned over a boiling pot of stew in her kitchen.

Frowning, she dipped her spoon into the pot and brought a steaming bite to her lips. She paused to blow before sliding it into her mouth. "Oh, that is just foul," she hissed, grabbing a cloth napkin from the counter and spitting into it. Granted it wasn't the most ladylike of gestures, but it wasn't as if someone was around to see her.

"Fair Eliza-"

"Goodness," she cried, clasping a hand to her chest as she turned to see Mr. Spinelli standing in the door. "You gave me quite a fright. I didn't realize you were standing there." Her cheeks flushed, and she balled the napkin up in her fist as if she could make it disappear. "I – I am just preparing our dinner. Mr. Morgan asked if I could, but I'm afraid it has been a while since I've been in the kitchen."

Biting her cheeks, she turned back to the pot at her obvious lie, but she couldn't explain to Mr. Spinelli that all too often Carly helped prepare her meals, only today she'd refused. The woman had been less than thrilled to hear that Elizabeth was betrothed to some stranger who had shown up on her doorstep. Even after she explained about her father's wishes and the letter, she was still disgusted that Jeffrey expected her to do such a thing, and Elizabeth couldn't rightly tell Carly that her father wasn't forcing her to marry Mr. Morgan.

_No, they'd done just fine creating that mess on their own. _

"Perhaps, I could provide my services," he said hesitantly, stepping into the kitchen and giving her a smile.

"You cook?" she asked excitedly, relenting when she realized this may be some kind of set up. "It's not that I can't handle this on my own. It's just a silly stew, you know."

"I, myself, am a jack of all trades for my brooding boss," he replied kindly, standing beside her at the stove. "While Jason is a rather fine cook, he often implores me to take to the stove."

"Is that so?" she asked, releasing her grip on the wooden spoon when he nodded. "Well, I do suppose – if it wouldn't be much trouble. After all, this is Mr. Morgan's first meal and I would rather him not know of my poorer attributes."

"At least not until you two are married," Mr. Spinelli joked, taking the spoon and stirring the stew. Elizabeth's eyes widened in horror, mostly because she was too busy thinking about what Mr. Morgan would say if he knew he'd proposed – _as backwards a proposal as it was_ – to a woman who wasn't fit to keep a home. "I was merely jesting, my lady."

"Oh," she said, flashing him a smile as she stepped away to give him space to work.

Mr. Spinelli eyed the vegetables she'd not so neatly chopped on the counter as he took a bite of the stew. He winced, coughing loudly and muttering something about the steam getting to him, and she nearly fainted on the spot, knowing he would surely report this back to Mr. Morgan. While she didn't want to marry the fool, the idea of him breaking the engagement was rather humiliating.

"Not a problem, miss," he murmured, making a face as he took a second bite. "If you don't mind me asking, did you perhaps use sugar instead of salt?"

"Oh, dear I hope not," she replied, looking away as he poked around on the counter, sticking his finger into a bowl that she knew was salt.

"I believe you did," he said apologetically, clearly feeling terrible that she was so upset. "No need to worry. I will have this fixed in no time, and Jason will never know. It can be our secret."

"You would keep this from Mr. Morgan?" she asked, not sure why he'd be willing to hide her lacking characteristics when he was Mr. Morgan's most trusted confidant.

"This is a stew. It won't hurt anyone if you say you made it," he replied, tossing some vegetables into the pot and stirring them around. "Have you thought about calling him Jason instead of Mr. Morgan? Once you are married…"

"I suppose I should," she frowned, wondering if Mr. Morgan – Jason was prepared for such intimacy. He hadn't requested her to make a change, but maybe he'd asked Mr. Spinelli to talk to her seeing as they'd gotten off to such a terrible start.

"You can drop the mister from my name also, Fair Elizabeth," he murmured, stirring the stew in one direction, and then switching to the other.

He noticed her watching and started to mutter something about it being a technique of his mother's, and she knew she'd never try it because she would somehow ruin it. And it just didn't seem right to ruin the method of a woman she didn't know.

"Mr. – Damien-"

"Drop the mister," he interrupted, looking over his shoulder at her. "Simply Spinelli, no mister or Damien. It is what I have always been called, and I wish – Unless you want to call me by Damien. I didn't intend to sound rude or put off by your choice of name-"

"No, it's quite fine, Da – Spinelli," she said firmly, leaning against the counter and watching him closely as he expertly chopped an onion and tossed it in to the bubbling pot. "May I ask you a question? Several questions actually."

"You may ask whatever you'd like," he grinned, sounding pleased to have some sort of attention.

Elizabeth imagined that Jason wasn't the best of companions for travel, and she briefly thought about what their own trip to Italy would have been like. Something told her that before they even got out of the city, she would have done her best to overturn the carriage, all the while telling him to go to hell.

"How long have you worked for Mister – for Jason?"

"Many years."

"How many?"

"Close to ten. I believe I came into contact with Jason shortly after his arrival to Italy."

"He is good to you?" she asked, waiting for him to tell her she was asking too many questions. Her father always told her she didn't know when to stop bothering strangers, but it wasn't her fault she was so interested in people.

"Jason is one of the most trustworthy and kindest people I have met."

Her heart swelled at his sincere tone, relieved to find that someone who worked beneath Jason respected him this much. Of course, as an employee, he would never openly speak against his boss, but Spinelli seemed to be the kind of man who was very forward with his beliefs.

"I take it you are worried," he murmured, laying his spoon across the top of the pot.

"I may have expressed my distaste for Jason this morning, but that doesn't mean that I don't long to be a good wife," she admitted, feeling uncomfortable that she was saying all this to Spinelli.

It wasn't as if she and Jason had really discussed their marriage and what exactly it would entail. She wouldn't be surprised if he petitioned for an annulment the second he freed her father – _if_ he freed her father. He clearly wished to force her into a place where she had no choice but to submit to him so he could do so. The stupid man better think twice if he expected her to be some sort of woman that wouldn't speak because she was told not to, or maybe that's what he wanted. She really hated not being able to read him.

"One last question," she murmured, her mouth watering at the smell coming from the pot. She couldn't believe he'd managed to turn her stew into something that smelled so unbelievably delicious.

"Yes?"

"How does Jason know my father?" she asked hesitantly, positive that he would tell her to shut her mouth and stop prying.

Instead he turned to her, a bemused smile on his face. "You don't remember?"

"Remem-"

"Spinelli," Jason barked, appearing in the doorway, scowling at the two of them standing beside one another. His frame was as wide and tall as the doorframe, and he looked so angry that he might burst it to pieces. The blue of his eyes wasn't bright and kind like before, and he looked almost menacing.

"Forgive me, sir," he replied, dropping the spoon into the pot and hurrying away from Elizabeth. "I was simply doing as you asked and looking out for your fair-"

"It's fine. I need to talk with you," he snarled, walking out of the room.

She stood frozen next to the stove, not sure what to do exactly with the stew, and she craned her neck trying to pick up their conversation in the hallway. Thankfully, Jason didn't sound as though he was scolding Spinelli. They were whispering, and she knew she wasn't supposed to hear, but that didn't stop her from trying.

Carefully, she crossed the room and stood next to the doorway, only to hear that Jason was giving Spinelli a list of tasks. Something about a woman named Georgie, a pub, and a piece of paper, and while Elizabeth knew that Jason was the type of man to engage in wenches, she couldn't believe he was having Spinelli arrange it for him.

Oh, she was disgusted.

_To think, she was going to marry this horrid fool. _

"Oh, bloody hell!" she cried, glancing at the stove to see the stew boiling over the pot. She felt Jason's presence over her shoulder as she hurried to wipe up the mess and didn't have to look at him to know he was wearing the same angered look as before.

"What?" she spat, swearing again under her breath when she bumped the side of her hand against the scolding hot stew pot.

"Those are hardly _appropriate_ words for a woman to use," he hissed, hurrying over to grab her hand and look over the red, blistering burn. Her hand was small and delicate in his as he gently stroked the burn with his slender fingers. He didn't feel as rough as she imagined he would, tender in fact, and that shocked her. "But I do suppose that's your punishment for eavesdropping."

"I was doing no such thing," she cried, jerking her hand away from him. Her elbow nearly crashed into the stove, but thankfully he moved to steady her. "This is my home, and if I want to stand in doorways-"

"For someone who is so concerned with being proper, you sure as hell don't act like it," he replied, narrowing his gaze at her.

"Don't curse at me," she said disgustedly, grabbing another washcloth from the counter and pressing it against her hand. The rough cloth did nothing except agitate the burn, but that didn't stop her from holding the rag against it.

Choosing neither to apologize nor harass her any longer, he turned to the stove and started to clean up the rest of the mess. The stew had boiled over everywhere, and she'd done it no favor by knocking against it. Her entire afternoon spent chopping and stirring and trying to figure out what she was doing had been completely wasted. She winced when she pulled the cloth back to see her bubbled skin and hissed as she opened and closed her fist, surprised by how badly it hurt.

"You're making it worse," he muttered, shaking his head as he continued to wipe up the stove. She rolled her eyes at the back of his head and pressed the cloth to her hand, refusing to let him know that it hurt. "Elizabeth, stop hurting yourself to prove something."

"I am not."

"You are," he grunted, piling the dirty rags on the counter before starting to look through the cabinets.

"What are you doing?" she asked, knowing she shouldn't feel violated that he was going through her things seeing as they were technically engaged, but still.

He ignored her, pulling a small bowl from the cabinet, and she watched as he poured water into it, and then added something white, like flour – no, baking soda, and stirred it around with his fingertip. She would have smiled at the gesture, but was too busy scolding herself for not thinking of it first, considering her father was a doctor.

"Give me your hand," he said, holding his hand out.

"I'm quite capable of doing it my-"

He cut her off, by grabbing her hand and pulling her towards him. Almost instantly, he became tender again, using his fingertips to gently apply the paste to the burn. She grimaced, not sure whether to blame the burn or being so close to him for upsetting her. "Sorry," he murmured, thinking it was the burn bothering her. He lifted her hand to his lips and blew gently on her skin.

"Really, Jason, you didn't have to…," she sighed, relieved when he let go of her hand and turned to wipe his fingers on the pile of dirty rags.

"I see you've taken to using first names," he commented, shifting his eyes to hers.

"Well, Spin – Mr. Spinelli – he, uh, he suggested that since we are to be married…" She paused, feeling overly flustered. "We are still getting…"

"Yes," he answered, arching an eyebrow as if challenging her to say otherwise. His lips turned into a grin. "And I'd rather you call me Jason. I like the way it sounds on your lips." He stopped long enough to let his comment sink in, looking pleased when she let out a groan of annoyance. "But we don't need to discuss the engagement yet."

"Oh," she said quietly, holding one hand across her middle, leaving her burned one to hang limply at her side. "Clearly you have something you do wish to discuss."

"I met with someone about your father's case," he replied, surprising her completely. Of all the things she expected Jason to discuss with her, anything related to her father was the last. "I was given some very telling information."

"Nothing to free him I'm sure," she murmured, looking away from him as his expression hardened.

"You lied to me." She shook her head, preparing to defend herself, but he didn't give her the chance. "You said you knew nothing about your father's case, and yet you're connected to all the parties involved, including the man your father supposedly murdered."

She stiffened, not knowing how or what to say and she hated that she'd allowed him to back her into a corner, especially when he seemed to enjoy doing so.

"Both Lucas Spencer and Richard Lansing were suitors of yours," he replied, as if to remind her.

"Did you think I forgot?" she snapped, her lips quivering.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

"You seemed so determined to figure things out on your own," she stammered. "So I thought…"

"You didn't want me to know," he said smugly, giving her no time to dispute his claim. "That only leads me to think you know more than you're letting on."

"What kind of fool do you think I am?" she cried, throwing up her hands. "You show up on my doorstep and simply expect me to drop to my knees, giving you whatever you want – be it information, a bed, or a wife, and you never stop for a moment to ask how I feel about any of this."

"Forgive me, Elizabeth," he replied, rolling his eyes. "I thought maybe you wanted to free your father as badly as I do."

Her eyes welled up with tears, but there was no way she would let him see her cry. "Don't you dare throw my father's freedom in my face," she warned, pointing a trembling finger at him. It was a good thing she didn't have a staff or else they'd all be crowded into the hallway, soaking up every word. "No one wants him out of prison more than I do, and not a day has passed in the last six months when I haven't thought of him."

"Then perhaps you could act as if you gave a damn and provide the information you have," he cried, raising his voice to shout over hers.

"Nothing you find out will change the outcome of this," she shouted, practically shrieking in hopes that he would just listen to her. "You think you can ride in like some silly hero from Italy and change the law? Someone was murdered, and Richard won't give up until someone pays."

"That person will be your father," he growled, gritting his teeth.

"Because there is no one else," she whispered through her tears. "To prove that he's innocent means you have to find another suspect, and have you bothered to think that might just get you more than you bargained for?"

Gripping her skirt, she gave him no time to answer and started to rush past him, but he grabbed her wrist, jerking her against him. She crashed into him, her entire body tensing up as she looked up at him with fear-filled eyes, too scared to pull away.

"Let go of me," she pleaded, a tear slipping down her cheek. "Please."

"I'm trying to repay your father."

"You may owe my father a favor, Jason," she murmured, her voice trembling as she spoke, "but I assure you showing up and treating me like some invalid is not a way to repay that favor." His eyes softened immediately and he loosened his grip, but didn't let go completely, forcing her pull away from him. "Do not _ever_ touch me like that again."

Jason nodded, unable to find words as she turned and fled from the room, her sob bursting through the kitchen the second she disappeared from the room. Her feet were heavy on the stairs as she hurried to put distance between them, and the slamming of her door practically rattled the entire frame of the house. Scowling, he raked a hand through his hair, suddenly jerking the pot from the stove and flinging it across the room.

"I take it dinner did not go as planned," Spinelli murmured, an hour or so later as he returned to the house, a stack of papers beneath his arm.

"Not exactly," Jason said, his gaze locked on the pan in front of him, doing his best to prepare some kind of dinner that all of them could eat.

Carly obviously either cooked for her or kept her kitchen stocked daily, or maybe Elizabeth just didn't eat. That would explain why she was so thin.

"Did you take care of what I asked?" Jason asked, opening the cabinets and searching around for a tray of some kind.

"Yes, I did," he replied, setting the papers on the counter. "Newspapers from the past few months, documents that Johnny managed to get a hold of, and some other things he thought you might want to look over."

"Georgie?" he asked, stooping down to dig through more cabinets, annoyed that the kitchen had so many damn places to put things.

Not that Elizabeth would know where anything was if she was down here.

The poor girl clearly knew nothing about cooking, and he was thankful he'd learned his way long ago, or else they'd all starve. He surely wasn't going to hire someone in London when they had no desire but to collect whatever gossip they could about Jeffrey Webber.

"She is at your disposal," Spinelli replied, watching his boss closely. "Sir, may I help you?"

"I need a tray," he spat, slamming the cabinet doors. "Forgive me, Spinelli."

"Not a problem sir," he said, going through the places that Jason just had, but he didn't stop him. A moment later, he pulled a fancy silver tray from one of the top shelves. It was tarnished, in desperate need of shining, but it would do.

"Thank you," he grunted, taking it from his assistant and placing it next to the stove.

He was too distracted with Elizabeth to see straight, and he'd spent the last hour fighting the urge to stalk up to her bedroom and demand that she let him apologize. The only thing that really stopped him was that he'd have to kick her door in, and that would just start another fight he wasn't ready for.

Part of him longed to hold her in contempt for keeping such important information from him, while the other wanted to coddle and hold her like Jeffrey would. However, she was a damn grown woman; full of attitude and opinions and a mouth that would disgust most men, therefore she could coddle herself.

"If I may be so bold, Jason," Spinelli said, watching as he filled three bowls with some concoction that didn't appear to be a stew, but was supposed to be.

"What?" he sighed, knowing he would say whatever he wanted anyway.

"I believe that you and Fair Elizabeth are equally distressed over your situation," he replied seriously. "And that instead of working from opposing sides, you should find some common ground. You both want Jeffrey free, and if that requires a marriage or a vow for the time being, there's no one to be angry with. You could simply call off the engagement, send her to Italy, and stay behind…"

"I can't," Jason said, dipping a spoon into a bowl and sliding it down the counter to Spinelli.

Regardless of whether she wanted him to know it, Elizabeth was already afraid that Jason would break the engagement. He could see in her eyes that she trusted him to fix this in some way, and he felt too guilty about everything that had happened to just throw her in a carriage and send her out of the city. It didn't mean he hadn't thought about it. One more outburst like what he witnessed earlier, and their entire marriage would be spent slamming doors, and Jeffrey would never get free.

"Besides, marrying her keeps her close and she'll calm down once the initial shock settles," he murmured, talking mostly to himself. "Maybe you are right. She needs time. I need time, but sadly, we don't have much. Jeffrey could go to trial any day now, and if Lansing realizes that someone is working to free him…"

"He could push for the trial to move up," Spinelli filled in, shaking his head. "I can't imagine how much it pains you to have to come back here after why you left." Jason glared at him, reminding him of the conversation he'd come across earlier. "Fair Elizabeth simply asked, and I would have thought she'd remember that you once liv-"

"Don't answer her questions," he interrupted, slapping a piece of burnt bread onto a plate and setting it on the tray. Elizabeth had put a loaf of bread in the oven, and by the time he'd realized it, the entire kitchen was filled with smoke. It had all finally cleared out a few minutes before Spinelli arrived. "It's my past and I'll tell it at my choosing." Sighing, he lifted the tray with his hands and nodded towards Spinelli's bowl. "Eat your dinner."

The young man nodded, reaching for the bowl. Jason paused in the doorway, looking over his shoulder. "Spinelli?"

"Yes, sir?" he asked, wiping stew from his chin as chewed.

"Thank you for helping Elizabeth today," he replied, heading out of the kitchen and for the stairs.

His heart tightened in his chest as he started upstairs only to be greeted with the sound of Elizabeth's sobs sneaking out from beneath her door.

Frowning, he headed to his room at the far end of the hall, kicking the door open with his foot. He set the tray on the table by the door and crossed the room to his bag, digging around for a piece of paper. He quickly scrawled a messy note and folded it in half, before walking back over to the chair and tucking it under the bowl of food.

Swallowing hard, he picked up the chair and started into the hall, shaking his head as he listened to her cry through the bedroom door. "Elizabeth," he murmured, rapping gently on the door.

"Go away!" she screamed, giving him the reaction he'd precisely expected.

"I'm leaving your dinner in the hall," he replied, setting the tray outside her door and heading for the stairs.

He returned to the kitchen to find Spinelli had already gone to bed, his bowl cleaned and placed back into the cabinet. Jason's had already turned cold, giving him no desire to eat, so he tossed it out and cleaned up the rest of the dishes, before heading up to bed.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he was surprised to find the tray of food still in the hallway, knowing that Elizabeth must have been starving by now. Upon closer inspection, he found that her bowl was empty, and her bread was now a pile of crumbs. The note he'd written, however, was crumbled up and placed in the center of the tray as if to make a point, but still, it was some kind of start.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

_London, 1820 _

"Ms. Webber?"

Elizabeth rolled onto her back, clenching her eyes shut at the knocking on her bedroom door. The voice was female, meaning that Jason had clearly given up on coaxing her out of her room as he'd been trying for the last two days, but it could have been a ploy. She wouldn't put it past him to snatch some poor woman off the street and pay her to knock on the door in hopes that Elizabeth would answer.

"Just a moment," she called out, pushing herself up. She crawled to the foot of the bed to grab the robe that was hanging on the bedpost, hurrying to shrug it over her shoulders.

"May I ask who…" Her voice trailed off as she fought to slide her feet into her slippers.

"Georgie Jones, miss," came the tired response. "Mr. Spinelli let me in and showed me to your room."

"Oh," she murmured quietly, knowing the woman didn't hear her. The name was all too familiar and she whispered it aloud several times to herself before it finally clicked. "The seamstress?"

"That would be it," she replied, letting out a heavy sigh that made Elizabeth feel embarrassed for forcing her to wait.

Spinelli hadn't been setting up a wench after all.

"Forgive me," Elizabeth said, pulling the door open just a crack. She could tell from the way the sun streamed in through the window that it was late afternoon, and she couldn't believe how lazy she'd been. "I've just gotten up…from an afternoon nap."

"No worries, miss," she grinned, tipping her head expectantly and waiting for her to open the door. "Mr. Morgan sent Mr. Spinelli. He thought you might like some new gowns and dresses. I was also informed you're going to be married, so a wedding dress too. I apologize for coming so early, but he wanted the wedding dress as soon as possible."

"I see," she murmured, holding her robe closed with one hand and pulling the door open. "Mr. Morgan's been rather busy the past couple of days."

"You did not know I was coming?" she asked, setting her box of supplies down on the table by the door and starting to unload all the material from her arms.

"Must have forgotten," she replied, gently closing the door and watching as Georgie sorted through the fabric.

It wasn't as if she could tell the woman her fiancé was a complete scoundrel, and she'd locked herself in her room to avoid seeing his face. To the seamstress he would seem kind and loving, having requested a new wardrobe for his soon-to-be wife, and well, it wasn't like she could tell Georgie a thing really.

Oh, how she wished she had someone to talk to during all of this.

She'd gotten used to having an empty, quiet house all to herself, but in the past few days her home had managed to become quite lively. With not much to do in her room but sulk, she'd listened to the sounds of Jason and Spinelli's feet on the stairs and their hushed voices as they passed through the hallway. She really had learned so much about them in her self-induced solitary confinement.

Jason's feet were heavier than Spineli's, which made sense seeing as he was a much bigger man. He moved as awkwardly as Spinelli when he was upstairs, and she was always hearing him bumping into things and swearing under his breath. At first she thought it was Spinelli, but the second she heard him placing the word bloody between every thing he said, she knew it was Jason, and for some reason it made her smile. There was just something about him being so twisted up that he couldn't even walk straight that pleased her. Though he could be equally as content with how she'd withdrawn to her room.

They were going to make for such a lovely marriage.

There were also times when he moved so lightly as if his feet barely touched the floor. That was usually when he left a tray of food outside her door along with some silly note apologizing for being such a fool – _his words not hers_ – and she refused to let him get off so easily. A note and a few bowls of stew wouldn't change that he had questioned her belief in her father and her desire to free him. There was just so much that Jason didn't know and wouldn't understand, and she couldn't help but resent him for thinking he had the power to change everything.

"Ready, miss?" Georgie asked, holding a measuring tape in one hand and several yards of fabric in the other.

"You said that Jason sent for you?" she asked, her hands still fisted in her robe. "I am just curious as to why. I have an entire wardrobe that I believe is just fine."

"I suppose it's a wedding gift of some kind," she replied, giving her a kind smile. "You're starting a new life, and a bridal trousseau is traditional. Perhaps, Mr. Morgan wanted to honor that seeing as…" Her voiced trailed off as her cheeks turned pink, fearing that she'd insulted Elizabeth. Georgie was correct in that she had no family or mother to carry out any wedding traditions.

"Don't worry," she said, taking a deep breath and forcing a smile at the young girl. She couldn't have been any older than Elizabeth, but if she remembered correctly, her family had always been in the tailoring business. "What exactly does this entail?"

"Mr. Morgan gave me a list of what you might like," she replied, digging through her box of supplies. "Here it is: a velvet dress or two, some walking dresses, ball dresses, dresses for traveling, robes-"

"Why would I need all of that?" Elizabeth interrupted, tightening her robe around her small frame.

She would take a new dress or two simply because she hadn't updated her wardrobe in months. Ball gowns and fancy frilly things with lace just seemed unnecessary, especially for a marriage that was happening because it was convenient.

_Unless…_

Oh, she _really_ needed to discuss their situation with Jason.

Georgie's eyes lifted from the paper as she gave her a curious smile. "You are marrying a Viscount, miss."

"Yes, you are right," she agreed, doing her best to hide the fact that she'd practically forgotten he was a Viscount.

_So what did that require from her? _

This was all so very confusing.

"Well," Elizabeth sighed, loosening her grip on her robe. "Perhaps we should get started."

"I'll need you to pick up the certificate tomorrow," Jason murmured, slicing onions for a soup on the kitchen counter as he spoke to Spinelli. "Once I can get _this_ out of the way, I can focus on the case." He tried to ignore the way his assistant stiffened, clearly disagreeing with something he'd said. "Yes?"

"Sir, while I haven't the exact knowledge of what a marriage means – I believe it's safe to say it isn't just something you get out of the way," Spinelli replied hesitantly, clutching his list of tasks tightly in his hand. "How are you even sure Fair Elizabeth will leave her room long enough for a wedding ceremony?"

Jason cleared his throat, shrugging as he continued to slice the onions. "She won't have a choice."

"Does that make a difference?" he questioned, frowning at his boss. "The lady has had no choice in any of what's happened so far and has made it clear how she feels."

"I know," he said softly, shoving the slices aside.

He did not need Spinelli to tell him how miserable and upset Elizabeth was. Jason had been living with her for days now; her ear piercing silence and heartbreaking sobs were enough to make him feel as if he were going mad.

Had she been any other woman, _anyone other than Jeffrey's daughter,_ he would have kicked her door down and demanded she speak to him. Instead he was taking Spinelli's advice and trying to understand her feelings – something very foreign altogether, but he was trying nonetheless.

He never understood why women simply took to their rooms when they were upset – not that he had ever really lived with many. Sighing, he shook his head, knowing he hadn't really given Elizabeth much of a chance to do anything. Spinelli was always telling him he was a very difficult man to talk to, and for once he was trying to see what his assistant meant.

_Why did she have to be Jeffrey's daughter and force him into caring? _

"I assume she allowed Georgie in?" he asked, scooping the pile of onions into his hand and dropping them into the pot of stock on the stove.

Spinelli's eyes widened at the seamstresses name. "Yes, I heard the two of them laughing happily in Elizabeth's bedroom," he answered, smiling secretively. "Oh, she has the most beautiful laugh."

His lip twitched in annoyance at Spinelli having heard her laugh, and he hated that he was displeased to hear Elizabeth was happy. Or rather that his friend had been there to enjoy it.

"Her eyes are quite beautiful too," he continued, letting out a content sigh. "And those beautiful, delicate hands that she creates such-"

"Spinelli," he growled, turning around to face him, not sure why he was so annoyed. It was just very inappropriate for him to be talking about Jason's fiancé this way.

His assistant's eyes went wide and he shook his head, immediately starting to stutter. "No, you think that I was implying such…" He paused, holding a fist to his mouth as he grimaced. "No, no, no. I meant Wise, Beautiful Georgie – Not that Fair Elizabeth isn't wise or beautiful, but oh-" Pursing his lips, he nodded towards the doorway and waved his papers at Jason. "I do believe I have enough to keep me busy."

"Yes, you do," he replied, debating on whether or not he should turn to the doorway, knowing that Elizabeth was standing there and had heard the end of their exchange. He felt her presence, the never-ending awkwardness that followed her about the house from the moment she appeared. The last thing he wanted was for the silly girl to misconstrue their conversation and think that Jason cared if Spinelli had affection for her.

Besides, it wasn't as if such affections would go anywhere.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," she said softly, one hand clutching the doorway after she'd stepped aside so Spinelli could leave. She kept her eyes cast downward as if she were too afraid to look at him. "I wanted to thank you for…for today." His brow wrinkled as he tried to figure out what she meant. "The dresses. You really didn't have to go through such trouble. I do have dresses, you know."

"Of course," he sighed, never imagining she would take offense to an offer for a new wardrobe. "It is tradition when a woman is married…"

"I know," she murmured quietly, wringing her hands in front of her as her eyes finally found his. "It's all very overwhelming."

"The clo-" He stopped, realizing that she wasn't talking about the new clothes, but the entire situation period. _Damn that Spinelli for having been correct. _"Yes, I suppose it is."

She nodded slowly, and he watched the questions form in her eyes. "What will be expected of me?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly, and he hated to think she was afraid of him.

"Expected?"

"When I am your wife."

"Oh," he said dumbly, his mouth going dry at her question. He honestly hadn't had a second to really think about the possibilities, or if there would even be any. "What do you think should be expected of you?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Do men usually ask their wives such a thing?"

"I'm not like most men."

A brief smile flashed across her plump lips, and he found himself grinning in return as the room relaxed around them. "I'm beginning to see that, but that doesn't change the question at hand." Her eyes narrowed as if to enforce her firmness on the matter. "What do you expect of me?"

"You know why I asked you to marry me," he stated, not bothering to ask because he had no doubt that Elizabeth had him pegged.

"To force me into submission," she murmured softly, arching her eyebrows. "Isn't that why any man marries a woman?"

"How many times has that tongue of yours got you into trouble?" he asked, secretly admiring her boldness.

"As many times as you avoid giving answers," she replied, her jaw growing tight with annoyance. "I am doing my best here, Jason. I am complying and agreeing to your wishes, and when Georgie arrived today, it set in how real this is. She is making clothing fit for a Viscount's wife, and she is working on a wedding dress…" Her voice trailed off as she frowned and shook her head. "A dress I won't even get to see before I'm married in it."

He assumed such was important to a woman, and he never really understood why. Wedding gowns were overpriced and overdone, not to mention they cost a fortune only to be worn once. Sure, Elizabeth would have liked to meet with Georgie and discuss her dress in detail, but they only had so much time. Jason needed to get the damn wedding over, so he could focus on freeing her father.

"Um, yes," he muttered, when she cleared her throat, still waiting for his answer. "Well, I want to free your father."

"And you expect me to stay out of the way while you try to do so?"

"And to comply if necessary."

"That is all?" she pried curiously, and he couldn't figure out why she wasn't fighting him about demanding information from her. "The dresses…the marriage…Is it all just for show?"

"Should it mean anything more?" he asked, causing her to scowl. Shrugging, he turned back to the counter as he remembered the pot of soup. "If you wish to go into town or to attend…something – I thought you might like-"

"You mean as in you would attend with me?" She grunted, rolling her eyes and looking appalled. "Of course, you think appearing in society as if all is normal will get you somewhere with my father's case."

"It's possible."

"You're using me."

"You give me something, and I gladly give it in return."

"And that is all that you're asking me to give?"

He stiffened, not quite sure where she was going with this, but having a very good idea. Leave it to Elizabeth to make him feel even worse about their situation.

"Men usually ask a specific thing from their wives." She pushed herself away from the door and stepped into the kitchen. He didn't have to see beneath her skirts to know her knees were trembling.

"To have never been married before you seem to know a lot about wives and husbands."

"I hear lots of things, and I have a right to know if you expect me to…to handle certain…needs."

"No worries there. I won't be asking anything of that sort," he replied, dropping the knife on the counter when his hands started to tremble. He refused to look at her, not wanting to know her reaction.

It was going to be trying enough to be in a marriage where he wasn't receiving the benefits, and it never dawned on him that she would expect him to want her. Is that what this was about? Or did she want such a thing? And how could he deny her?

This was very perplexing.

Letting out a shaky breath, he quickly reminded himself this was Jeffrey Webber's daughter, and he had to move on from any impure thoughts that he may have. "I, uh, I take it you're feeling better?"

"About that…the way I acted…" She blushed, obviously thinking over the last exchange they'd had in the kitchen. "I was upset and instead of acting like a lady, I threw a tantrum that was the equivalent of a child's reaction to-"

"Don't," he cut in, shaking his head as he lifted his eyes to hers. She arched an eyebrow in reply, not understanding him. "Don't _ever_ apologize for what you feel or how you show it." She nodded, leaning her hip against the counter as she looked at him, unsure of what to say. "I wasn't very kind to you either."

"I imagine that's hard for a man like you to admit," she replied quietly, a slow grin spreading across her face.

"No," he corrected, gripping the knife, his shaky hands finally steadying. At least she didn't hate him _that_ much. "Admitting I'm wrong is easy, especially when Spinelli is around to remind me. It's doing what is right after the mistake where I usually fall short."

"So…what is right?" she asked, craning her neck to watch him expertly slice the onions and drop them into the pot.

Swallowing hard, he took a deep breath and tried to sort his words, knowing the wrong ones would send her back to her room. "You are Jeffrey Webber's daughter; therefore you deserve the same respect I would give him."

"Isn't it a tad bit ridiculous to respect me on name alone?" she inquired, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at him expectantly. "Did you bother to think I may have some enjoyable qualities? Or do you see me as just another silly girl?"

He grunted, failing to hide his grin at her sudden playfulness. "Aren't you respecting me for the same reasons?" he asked, dipping a wooden spoon into the pot and stirring the onions he'd just dropped in. "Your father has done us no favors in connecting us."

Her eyes darkened, challenged by his statement. "I was raised to respect most men, and you are a Viscount-"

"That's nothing more than a name," he interrupted, waving the spoon at her.

"Well, then perhaps I'll just have to find some likeable, respectable qualities about you," she replied, inching her way along the counter, desperate to peek into the pot on the stove.

"I'll try to do the same," he said, shaking the spoon off over the pot and laying it onto the counter.

"You cook," she murmured, sliding up beside him, her elbow resting against the counter.

He didn't realize at first that she meant it as a compliment, and it felt surprisingly good to hear such from her, and he couldn't decide whether or not he liked the feeling.

"You could always learn," he offered, sliding the knife across the counter to her. He had no idea why he felt the urge to teach her, but he figured it would be easier than standing side-by-side in complete and total awkwardness.

She shook her head timidly and clasped her hands to her chest. "I believe I've made enough messes already."

"Honestly, it isn't that hard," he said, peeling another onion and slicing it in half. He slid his hand down the knife and carefully clutched it by the blade as he held it out to her.

"Jason, I don't know," she murmured, clumsily gripping the handle in her palm. He knew immediately what her problem was; that she held the knife too limp as if she were afraid, and he remembered how roughly chopped the vegetables looked from her stew that he'd thrown across the room.

"Come here," he replied, gently placing a hand on her shoulder and turning her to face the counter. Wrapping one hand around hers, he held the knife over the onion, lifting her other and placing it around the vegetable to hold it in place. His finger grazed the side of her hand, reminding him of the burn, and he dropped his head down so that it was close to her ear. "Does it still hurt?"

"No," she answered, her body fighting between letting go and staying tensed.

He couldn't help but grin at how she reacted to his closeness. How she shifted uncomfortably, causing her back to graze against his chest, forcing him to fight the urge to press himself against her. Or how her soft, velvety skin sweated beneath his, leaving him to wonder if a man had ever gotten this close to her.

"Jason?"

"Um, yeah," he muttered, methodically lifting the knife, his hand cupping hers as he lowered it to cut the onion into thin strips. "Like that."

She nodded, sighing heavily when he released her hand, but remained behind her. Moments later, she was loosely holding the knife again and fumbling to cut the onion. Her strips varied in size, many entirely too fat, and he started to place his hand over hers again and help, but she quickly dropped the knife and backed away.

"I'd rather you did this. As you know, I'm a terrible cook, and thankfully, you aren't. Otherwise we would surely starve once we're married," she said, practically twitching as she rambled. "You could always hire a cook, or perhaps, we could just stick Spinelli in here. Or maybe-"

"You act as if you're afraid of it," he interrupted, nodding towards the knife.

"Not exactly, but they do make me uncomfortable," she admitted, folding her arms over her chest and drawing her shoulders tightly around her as if trying to shrink away.

"Your father," he sighed, shaking his head and silently scolding himself for not thinking. Had Spinelli been here, the damn fool would have noticed immediately. She neither confirmed nor denied his speculation, so he simply finished the onion himself and dropped it into the pot.

"Well," he murmured, glancing over his shoulder at her as she continued to stand completely still. He wondered why the knife had shaken her that much, but he didn't dare ask. Instead, he did his best to think like his assistant, searching for something to ease the awkwardness that was filling the space between them. "I suppose I'll have to look somewhere other than the kitchen for your finer qualities."


	6. Chapter 6

(I've only recently realized that when I upload documents that the spacers between sections are taken out, and I've been trying to correct it in chapters, but for whatever reason the breaks aren't showing up. It's late and I am too tired to fuss over it now. So hopefully I'll get it figured out soon. I apologize for any confusion. Enjoy.)

Chapter 6

_London, 1820_

Sighing, Elizabeth pressed her forehead against the window of the carriage and clasped her hands in her lap. The morning had been emotionally exhausting, and she'd much rather be lying down for a nap than heading to the home of a man she barely knew.

Technically, she knew Johnny Zacharra and his wife, but it had been years since she'd spoken to either. Johnny stopped by the house from time to time, usually meeting with her father, and while they exchanged a brief hello, it could hardly count as _real_ conversation.

When was the last time she'd had a real conversation?

She and Jason had managed to reach some kind of understanding in the past couple of days. He continued to respect her space and feelings, and she did the same for him. After all, he was right; if they remained at one another's throats this situation would never work. She didn't really understand what he planned on doing, and he wasn't exactly asking for her advice. Instead, he paced and brooded around the house, murmuring about misunderstandings and motives, and she tried not to listen to it, but it was hard.

_He just murmured so damn loudly. _

It wasn't as if she'd offer up any information anyway. Jason was already in over his head, that much she'd tried to tell him, but she couldn't explain why. The stupid man needed to listen to a woman for once and…_Oh, it was all just one mess after the other._

The saddest part of it was that she was genuinely starting to enjoy Jason's company. When he wasn't obsessing over newspaper articles and making lists of tasks for Spinelli – he really was going to work that poor man to death – he actually displayed glimpses of a likeable personality.

He was patient and kind, clearly he had to be considering he'd taken it upon himself to teach her to cook, and even though she burned whatever was in the pan, couldn't cut a damn thing straight, and managed to usually knock the pots off the stove, he never grew flustered. Or maybe he was just so bored that he found all her silly antics entertaining, or he could have been hungry and tired of cooking his own meals.

She had no idea how to read the stupid man.

Sighing again, she smoothed her hand over the soft skirt of her dress. It was one of the new ones Georgie had managed to sew in just a few days. Much to Elizabeth's surprise, she'd come by that morning with several dresses, including her wedding gown, saying that she hoped it fit perfectly, and that if not, Jason promised to give her time to take it in and whatever else it needed. Elizabeth just needed to be ready by noon for the ceremony.

Shifting on the plush bench of the carriage, she peeked at Jason from the corner of her eye and wondered if he was ever going to say anything. It had taken every ounce of composure she had not to blow up at him that morning, or stomp her feet and refuse to marry him without so much as a moments notice. He'd had plenty of opportunities in the past couple of days; over breakfast, lunch, and dinner. They'd even had tea yesterday and spent some time looking through files in her father's study. She had no idea why he needed the files, but figured it kept him sidetracked from any real tasks.

She cleared her throat and leaned in his direction, finally realizing that he had no intentions of speaking first. "I cannot believe you," she whispered, shifting her eyes to the door that led to the front of the carriage. She wondered just how much their driver could hear.

"Excuse me?" he grunted, turning towards her, his elbow grazing against hers.

"Never mind," she replied, closing her eyes as she leaned against the window, her hands fisted in her dress.

The entire day – _her wedding day_ – had been a disaster. She'd woken up and eaten a dull breakfast that she'd managed to cook on her own. Jason had already left, and she assumed he was out doing whatever he considered to be investigating. Little did she know he was rounding up Georgie and paperwork and someone to conduct their ceremony.

"Elizabeth, what is wrong?" he asked politely, grazing her arm with the back of his hand.

Even through her clothing the touch made her shiver, and she found it nearly impossible not to lean into him. Thankfully, she was able to keep her wits about her, knowing that was just the reaction a man like Jason Morgan wanted.

"Forgive me," she replied, lifting her head from the window to look at him, "but I just assumed with all that wonderful note writing of yours, you'd be capable of letting your fiancé know she was going to be married."

"Those notes were apologies," he reminded her, returning his hand to his lap.

"Exactly my point," she said hastily, shifting her gaze to the window. "Dear Elizabeth, I am sorry I am such a fool, but you'll be marrying me this afternoon."

"I would have been cleverer than that," he replied, laughing loudly, which only infuriated her more.

"Do not mock – Oh, ow!" she spat, her head bumping against the window as the carriage came to a sudden halt. "Stupid, bloody-"

"Elizabeth," he warned, shaking his head.

"Oh, don't take that tone with me," she said, rubbing her forehead and wincing as she felt a tiny bump already forming. "This is your entire fault – you and your hasty wedding because the bride doesn't need to know a damn thing."

"We'll be just a moment," Jason called out, holding the carriage door closed as the driver tried to open it. Sighing, he turned to Elizabeth, rolling his eyes. "I explained all of this to you the other night."

She tightened her grip on her skirt, knowing she couldn't be responsible for her hands if she let go of the material. "You said it would be a few days and that you were waiting for Spinelli to get the paperwork together, and you – you just _do not_ let a woman wake up and go about her day as if it is completely normal."

"Today was like any other day," he muttered. He held his grip on the door as if he feared the driver would open it at any second, and be witness to their first disagreement as husband and wife.

There was no doubt that there would be many others.

"It most certainly was not," she replied in disgust, reaching across his lap to push the door open. "I want out of this damn carriage. I've been too close to you for too long."

"There was no time this morning," he said, grabbing her wrist and pulling it away from the door. "You weren't up by the time I left, and I knew Georgie was coming-"

"Leave it to the seamstress to tell me-"

"I did my damnedest to keep this entire marriage under wraps. Isn't that what you wanted?" he growled, jerking her other arm away from the door as she continued to fight him. "Did you want your name splashed across the papers more than it already is? I told you the moment that things were legally prepared, we would-"

"Forgive me for being upset that you're treating this like it's business," she interrupted, jerking her arms from his grasp and slamming herself against the hard back of the seat. "I always imagined my wedding day would be some glorious celebration with my father at my side. I never believed it would be done in secret to prevent any further rumors about the scandal behind it."

She took a deep breath and lifted her eyes to his. "I know you see me as nothing more than some silly girl, but considering with how my life has turned out, all I can do is think about what I'll never have."

"When my father is free, you will choose to end this marriage, and no one else will ever touch me, let alone-"

"Is that not what you want?" he asked softly, sounding as if he truly cared.

"I want my father free," she replied, growing tired of her repetitive answers. "And sadly, if you cannot manage to give me that, I'll still end up alone." Swallowing hard, she straightened up, smoothing a hand over her hair and shaking her head at the wrinkles in her dress. "Please, can we get this dinner over with?"

Jason nodded and started to open the carriage, pausing to look at her. "I understand that you are upset, but Johnny and Nadine are two of my oldest friends, and they are also very dear to your father."

"Meaning?" she asked, arching an eyebrow as he moved out of the carriage, and then turned to give her his hand to help her down. She heard someone call down from the house, and she wondered if his oldest friends had seen how long it'd taken them to come out of the carriage – or worse, if they had discussed the possibilities as to why.

"They were kind enough to invite us into their home for dinner, and I want you to respect them," he murmured quietly, nodding to the driver as he motioned for her to slide her arm into his.

She flashed him an amused grin. "Don't worry, _dear husband,_ I have no intentions of embarrassing you, especially when you're quite capable of that on your own."

"If I may be so bold, you're far too kind for him," Nadine said, adjusting the baby in her arms as she walked beside Elizabeth through their garden.

"Sadly, I know this," she replied, relieved when the blonde snickered beside her.

She'd only _really_ known Nadine for a couple hours, but Elizabeth already liked her very much. She was witty and sharp, never failing to keep the men on their toes during dinner. Elizabeth spent most of the meal trying to keep up with the old friends, who clearly had a banter all their own. It was obvious Nadine had carved out a place as a strong woman, and that while it would bother most men; neither Jason nor Johnny seemed to mind. Elizabeth wasn't surprised that Jason appreciated the woman. After all, he'd been putting up with her tongue lashings for nearly a week now, and he always appeared amused when she called him a fool.

"Jason said you were old friends," she stated, feeling the need to say something.

"Yes, very old friends," Nadine murmured nostalgically, but didn't offer anything further, so Elizabeth didn't press.

"Well, at least you know how frustrating he can be." She paused as one of the boys came running towards them, a bouquet of roses in his hands.

He was the youngest of the three boys, dressed in his brother's hand me downs that Nadine said he insisted on wearing. At four years old, he longed to be grown like his brothers, who were only six and seven, but apparently that was all the difference in the world to the young boy.

"Tony, those have thorns!" Nadine scolded, shaking her head as he stopped in front of Elizabeth, and held the roses out.

"Nate picked 'em, 'cause he says you're pretty," the little boy said, and she couldn't help but laugh as she took them. "And Dante doesn't like girls, 'cause they smell nice, but that's 'cause he stinks."

"Thank you very much," she chuckled, leaning over to tousle his thick, black curls. He blushed at her touch, and she couldn't stop herself from pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "I'd tell you to take that back to your brothers but something tells me you don't want to pass it along."

"No way. It's all mine," he exclaimed, turning around and heading back in the direction of his brothers, who were peaking out from behind one of the rose bushes.

"I have no idea what I'm going to do with those two," Nadine sighed, patting the baby on her back. "They are just like their father, and taming him was challenging enough."

"They're absolutely adorable," she said, laughing as the older boys tackled Tony to the ground and loudly teased him about the flowers.

"Oh, sure," she replied, glaring as they neared her sons. "Just wait until you have a house full of them, and they are breaking things and pinching one another – and oh, now he's crying. I swear, I could strangle Johnny for ever knocking – You two get off of your brother now!" Sighing, she looked over at Elizabeth and held out the baby. "Would you mind? I have to go collect my lovely angels."

"Of course," she said, carefully tucking the roses in the crook of her arm. Thankfully there weren't too many thorns. She sucked in a breath as Nadine placed the tiny girl into her arms and immediately took off at her the boys. "Well…" She smiled down at the baby who looked back with bright blue eyes. She instantly cooed and kicked her legs, causing Elizabeth's heart to melt. "I can honestly say that I don't envy you, Amalia. All these brothers, and if you're father is as overbearing and annoying as my new husband…Well, I promise to keep you in my prayers."

It had been years since she'd held a baby. She'd forgotten how soft they were and how sweet they smelled, and she found herself growing teary-eyed at Nadine's previous comment. Unfortunately, she would _never_ had what Jason's friends did, and knowing that made her heart hurt.

"I've managed to get you the meeting with Jeffrey," Johnny said quietly, leading Jason out onto the terrace and glancing over his shoulder to make sure none of the staff was listening.

This was exactly why Jason disliked having people in his home. Even in Italy, his staff consisted of just a couple of people, most that he'd known for years, and sometimes he wondered if he could trust them. People would do _anything_ for the right amount of money or the wrong kind of threat. Being who he was, people always wanted to know his secrets, which was why he couldn't blame Elizabeth for sending everyone away after her father's arrest.

"When?" he asked, thankful that his friend had managed to use his connections so he could see Jeffrey. He wasn't sure what he expected to get out of a visit, but he felt compelled to see him, especially seeing as he'd wed his daughter earlier that day.

"Tomorrow evening," he replied, swirling a glass of whiskey around in his hand. "Richard is going to be out of town, so you'll be able to slip in and out without him knowing. The guard owes me a favor as do several other people, so I'm hoping they'll come through and Lansing will never know you visited him."

"Thank you."

"Any idea what you'll say to him?"

Jason shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't want to tell him that I want to prove his innocence."

"Why not?" he asked surprised.

"What if I can't?" he asked seriously, his eyes sweeping across Johnny's land, and coming to a stop on Elizabeth and Nadine. "I don't want him to get his hopes up."

"Elizabeth is already hopeful," he reminded him, as if Jason could forget. "Have you thought about what will happen if you don't free him?"

"You mean what will happen to Elizabeth?" he asked, shifting his gaze to his friend. "She expects the marriage to end either way, and I honestly believe she's praying for the day that I leave her alone."

"You're such a fool," Johnny replied, shaking his head. "There was a time when Jason Morgan could read any woman and get exactly what he wanted."

"She's not just any woman," he said, meaning it more than he meant to, but it was true. She was unlike anyone he'd ever met, and it both infuriated him and lit a fire of yearning.

"Which is why you should fight like hell to hang onto her, Jason," he muttered, taking a sip of his drink. "I know you don't trust people and you don't like them getting close, but this could be different. This could be good." He arched an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across his face. "And just maybe she'll surprise you by wanting you too."

"You marry one beautiful woman and you think you know everything," he grunted stiffly, knowing that while his friend meant no harm, he still couldn't help but take his words to heart.

"She's far too kind for you," Johnny murmured, leaning against the railing of the terrace and watched Nadine dragging his two oldest sons by their arms. "Polite too, and very cute, and you're too much of a fool to notice."

"You haven't been fortunate enough to receive a tongue lashing," Jason said, shaking his head as Nadine howled for Johnny to come help her.

"Like you don't deserve one," he replied, waving his glass at his wife, and eliciting a long string of curse words that caused all the boys to look up at their mother in disbelief. "See? She knows how to rally them up just fine on her own."

"She's going to hurt you," he laughed.

"Don't talk about my wife," Johnny said playfully. "You're the one who didn't even tell Elizabeth you were getting married until you were standing in front of the-"

"Well, I had to make sure she wasn't going to get away," Jason muttered, noticing that Elizabeth was carrying Amalia in his arms, and Tony was clutching her skirt and huddling closely. It was an odd sight, one that almost shook him, and at the same time, something about it felt so natural.

"You should take her with you," he murmured suddenly, starting towards the opposite end of the terrace, where Nadine was dragging their sons.

"Take who?" he asked, following after him, knowing that while the boys would have to be separated, the husband and wife might need to be too.

"Elizabeth," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "When you go to see Jeffrey, you should take her."

"Why?"

"Because he's her father," he answered dumbly, "and also because she'll appreciate the gesture."

Jason nodded, contemplating the outcomes of extending her the option to visit, but he worried that Elizabeth would tell her father what he was up to. Or worse, that she would tell the man Jason tricked her into marrying him, and Jeffrey would be upset. It was too much of a risk, and he knew if he gave her any kind of rules she would buck immediately, but if she found out that he'd gone, she'd be upset anyway.

He glanced towards the end of the terrace to see Elizabeth steering Tony away from his brothers, who were now being scolded by the father, while Nadine scolded Johnny in return. Amalia was still in her arms, and she paused long to talk softly to the baby as she fussed, grinning down at Tony when she quieted immediately, as if the two of them were sharing some kind of secret. He couldn't help but smile when he caught her eye, wondering if he would ever get anything _right_ with her.

Not sure how to feel that he actually wanted to.

Sighing, Jason shifted uncomfortably in the carriage and looked over at his wife, who was sitting just as she had the entire ride over; her forehead pressed against the window, her hands fisted in her dress, and he wondered what had her wound so tight. He supposed Johnny's awful joke as they were leaving about wedding nights being life-changing hadn't eased the tension that existed between them, and he wondered if Elizabeth was still thinking that Jason expected something of her. Granted, wedding nights were probably the _only_ time a woman willingly submitted, but Jason knew nothing of the sort was going to happen.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" he asked, needing to fill the silence with something. They'd ridden the whole way over without so much as a word, and he couldn't handle doing it all over again.

"Yes," she sighed, lifting her head with a gentle smile. "They are wonderful. Johnny is very funny, which amuses me greatly. You rarely ever laugh, but you did tonight. It was rather nice." His eyebrows arched at her compliment, and he wasn't sure how to reply. "Nadine is so kind and sweet. She says whatever she wants without thinking and…"

"She's a lot like you in that aspect," Jason commented, not surprised when she glared at him. "It isn't a bad thing, Elizabeth. She fits Johnny's personality well because she constantly challenges him, and she doesn't simply fall to her knees when he tries to charm her."

"They do fit well together," she agreed, relaxing her grip on her skirt. "And their children – they are absolutely beautiful."

"Did we see the same boys?" he asked, shaking his head.

"Well, they were rowdy, but Tony was a sweetheart, and Amalia…I hadn't held an infant in so long. I forget how good they smell and how soft their skin is," she murmured, grinning widely. Her eyes fluttered closed as if she were replaying the entire evening in her mind. "It was nice to be in a place that was so busy, yet peaceful, and just all around happy."

"Do you want that?" he asked, the words leaving his mouth before he even realized it.

"A family?" she asked, her eyes flashing open as she shifted awkwardly beside him. He nodded, unable to find any words, knowing that for a new husband to ask his wife that was normal, but their circumstances weren't. "I suppose. Doesn't everyone? Don't you?"

Clearing his throat, he shrugged and looked out the window, never having thought about such a possibility until now. "Johnny enjoys it, and when I think about who he used to be…"

"You think you could have it too," she stated, not allowing him any room to argue. "I used to think I could – or that I would. I imagined a home so full of love and laughter, just like where I grew up, but things are different now, of course. Some dreams have to be replaced by others."

He nodded, knowing she meant her father's freedom in exchange for wedded bliss, and he ached knowing that she was giving up something that meant so much to her. "You would give that up for your father?" he asked, knowing that she would honor her father until her last breath.

"He's my father," she answered, making it simple as she dropped her eyes to her lap. "Regardless of the circumstances, be my father free or not, I still won't get to have a family. That is just how things are – maybe even how they were supposed to be." She nibbled her lower lip and clenched her eyes closed. She grew quiet, but didn't turn away, and she remained still even when a tear slid down her cheek. "So much has changed."

"I'm seeing Jeffrey tomorrow," he said, shaking his head when he realized he was going to take his best friend's advice.

"You are?" she asked eagerly, sitting up beside him. "But how? Sure, money could get you what you in, but I would have thought Richard-"

"He'll be out of town…Johnny arranged the entire evening, and if all goes well, Richard will never know we were there…I thought you would like to come."

He watched intently as the offer settled over her face; first disbelief, then hope, and lastly, completely and utter excitement. "Really?" she asked, clutching her hands to her chest. "I'll get to see my father."

"Yes, I think you _need_ to see him," he replied, truly meaning it and disliking that he'd tried to talk himself out of it before. "Consider it a…wedding gift."

"Thank you," she cried, suddenly bursting into tears as she flung herself against him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Thank you so much."

He couldn't help but press his cheek to hers as he slid his arms around her, breathing in as much of her as he could. "It's my pleasure."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

_London, 1820_

"I was wondering if you were going to join me for dinner," Jason murmured, glancing over at Elizabeth as she came into the kitchen.

She stayed in the doorway, one hand wrapped around her middle and the other fisted in the skirt of her navy dress. Her curls hair were was pinned tightly in a bun at the back of her head, but a few stray curls had managed to come loose to frame her face. She looked out of place, like she belonged in any kitchen but _his_ – or vice versa seeing as it wasn't his home.

"Where's Spinelli?" she asked, as if trying to ignore that he sounded as if he actually wanted to have dinner with her.

He was more surprised that he actually _wanted_ to. "Errands," he answered, scooping soup into a bowl with a ladle.

"Are you trying to run the life out of him, or do you just enjoy giving orders?" she asked, craning her neck to look into the pot on the stove.

"He likes to stay busy," Jason replied, nodding towards the table on the other side room. He carried the bowls over to the table, set them down, and started back over for the spoons, but Elizabeth met him halfway and held one out to him.

"Not one for idle hands?" she asked, smiling softly as he pulled her chair out from the table. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied, taking his own seat across from her. "Spinelli has always liked to stay busy. He always has so much going on in that head of his. The mundane tasks relax him."

"I could use something to relax me," she sighed, curving her lips as she brought her spoon to her mouth and blew at the steaming heat.

For the first time in days, she appeared content, so her comment surprised him. He should have known something was wrong when she appeared in the kitchen that morning, grabbing a muffin from the counter, and retreated to her room. Part of him assumed that she was still upset for the way he'd gone about the wedding, but now he wondered if it was something more.

"I understand if you're still upset about yesterday's events," he said, the apology sounding awkward on his tongue.

"No, it's not that at all," she corrected, pressing her cloth napkin to the corners of her mouth. "Well, that was rather displeasing, but…" Sighing, she smoothed her napkin over her lap. "I suppose I'm feeling rather anxious about seeing my father."

"You have nothing to worry about," he replied sincerely, disliking the worry that filled her face. "When was the last time you…left the house?"

Her eyes widened as she stared into her lap. "I believe…yesterday…was the first time since…" Blush rose over her cheeks and she shook her head at herself. "Since my father was arrested."

"More than half a year," he murmured in disbelief, which only upset her more.

"It wasn't as if I had someone to escort me everywhere I went," she huffed defensively, clearly feeling insulted. "I couldn't keep the help around when so many were scrambling to find out the – when so many people wanted to know what happened. They didn't know what happened – they would have heard things in this house and misconstrued them, so I did what I had to do. Thankfully, Carly isn't as stubborn as I am. As difficult as she may be, I've needed her."

Jason nodded, biting his tongue to keep from saying what he truly thought of her friend. The woman was bossy and loud and her presence in the house irked him from the first time they met. She'd spent every moment after learning they were engaged trying to convince Elizabeth not to marry some stranger.

Now that she knew Jason and Elizabeth were married, he expected her attitude to worsen, and he was wondering if there was any way he could convince his wife to find someone new. Spinelli was capable of running any miniscule errand, but it wasn't like Jason could request that Carly be dismissed altogether. Elizabeth needed someone to help dress her in the morning, and she surely wouldn't allow her husband to do so.

_Not that he would mind. _

"Anytime you wish to go to town, Spinelli can-"

"No," she cut in, shaking her head firmly. "Tonight will be difficult enough." Taking a deep breath, she took another bite of her soup and forced a smile as she swallowed. "This is delicious."

"Thank you," he replied, having lost his appetite completely at the thought of her being so alone in this house.

For months, she'd had no one to speak to or laugh with, and it had caused her to be too afraid to leave the house. Jason imagined there had been hecklers, both in the press and town that had terribly frightened her, and she'd had to face it all on her own.

"Elizabeth," he whispered, caught off by the vulnerability of his own voice.

"Yes?" she asked, licking her lips after swallowing another bite.

"I know this situation is difficult, but I don't wish my wife to be miserable," he replied slowly, wanting to do something – _anything_ – to make her happy.

"I assure you I am not miserable," she said, lazily swirling her spoon around in her bowl.

"But you are sad," he stated, not allowing her the chance to argue.

"Well, a pretend marriage can't fix everything, Jason," she murmured, placing her dirty napkin on the table. "Unless you'd like company while you finish, I'd like to finish getting ready for this evening."

He dropped his gaze to his bowl, his heart tightening in his chest. "I'll meet you in the foyer in an hour."

"When I was a child, my father and I used to take walks in the countryside at night," Elizabeth murmured, smoothing a hand over her hair and regretting not having worn a hat. It just seemed so silly to have one on in the evening. "The stars look so close there."

"Perhaps, sometime we could-"

"It was a long time ago," she interrupted, tipping her head to look up at him. "I was just a silly child, and it's hardly fitting for adults. Not to mention what people would say."

"Do you always worry about what people say?" Jason asked curiously, stiffening as she tightened her hold on his arm.

Elizabeth noticed how tense he became and tried to loosen her grip, but she couldn't get rid of the anxiety that had consumed her the second they left the house. Yesterday had been different because she'd walked to the street and climbed into a carriage, but now they were walking through town. People would see them, and by morning everyone would know that Elizabeth Webber had been seen with a man. They would contemplate the possibilities; a suitor, a husband, or was she simply just a whore.

"I never used to care, but things change," she replied, drawing her shoulders tightly around her as they passed a woman and man on the street.

"Elizabeth, it's okay," he murmured, bringing his other hand up to rest over hers.

She sucked in a breath at the warmth of his touch, but was relieved when he left it there. So much of the past months had been spent alone that she actually appreciated having someone beside her, even if he didn't want to be.

"Do you know what you'll say to him?" she asked curiously, having rehearsed several conversations in her headand, but nothing seemed worthy to say to someone she hadn't seen in so long.

Her father had enough on his mind, and the last thing she wanted to add to that list was her. She didn't doubt that he thought of her daily and wondered if she was well, and she was worried about leaving him with the impression that she wasn't.

"No," Jason admitted, his lips curving into a gentle smile. "Johnny and I discussed what to say, and while I came here to work on his case, I haven't had much time…"

"I suppose I am to blame for that."

"Not at all. I am only worried if I tell your father about trying to free him that he may get hopeful and if I can't…"

"I see," she said, pursing her lips and turning her body towards Jason as they passed a group of men standing outside of a pub. Sensing her discomfort, he promptly steered her across the street and squeezed her hand reassuringly.

She smiled a thank you, suddenly feeling relaxed that he seemed to understand why she felt the way she did, and that he was willing to help her in any way. If only she could get him to understand her father's case through her eyes. Perhaps the distraction from freeing him was what Jason needed.

"We're almost there," he said, smoothing his thumb over the back of her hand as they walked. "Have you thought about what you'll say to him?"

"Very much," she confessed, feeling embarrassed. "I still haven't a clue to what I'll say, but I have promised myself I won't cry – at least not in front of him. Or you, seeing as you must be so tired of my crying."

"You've been through a lot," Jason murmured, waiting for her to lift her skirt in hands before starting up the stairs to the jail. "Just know you've done nothing wrong."

She dropped her eyes to the ground, not liking how he seemed to really see her when he looked at her, and she didn't look up again until they were standing in the hallway and Jason was talking to a guard.

"Johnny promised your discretion," he said, glaring at the short, fat man who was leaning against the wall.

"I won't tell Richard you were here unless he comes around asking," the man replied, turning to unlock the door to the hallway. "I have no desire to get on his bad side." Jason nodded, steering her into the hallway. "Last cell on the end. You have ten minutes."

Elizabeth didn't have to look into any of the cells to feel people stirring around and looking at them curiously. "It's okay," Jason whispered, slipping his arm around her waist and holding her against him.

She closed her eyes as they walked, the short hallway feeling as if it took hours, and when she opened her eyes, she nearly burst into tears at the sight of her father. "Papa," she cried, tearing herself out of Jason's arms and reaching through the bars.

"Oh, Elizabeth," he whispered, taking her hands in his. The tender hands she remembered so well were now rough and ragged against hers. He looked older than she remembered, this entire ordeal having aged him greatly. "How did you…"

"Jason and Johnny," she answered, pressing her forehead against the bars, wishing there was a way for nothing to be between them. "Papa, how are you? This place – it must be-"

"I am well," he cut in, shaking his head, "and that's all there is to say about me. Tell me about you." He looked over her shoulder at Jason, his eyes filled with appreciation. "How are you, Elizabeth?"

"I am – I am-" she stuttered, looking over her shoulder at Jason, not sure exactly what to tell her father.

He stepped forward and rested his hand on the small of her back, and she instantly felt comforted. "As you can see I received your letter, and I'm afraid to say that you underestimated your daughter and her desires."

Jeffrey's brow furrowed as he looked between them. "I'm not sure I understand."

"Jason and I – Well, he arrived last week and it all happened rather quickly, and I wished you could have been there, Papa," Elizabeth said hurriedly, still not telling her father the complete truth. She wasn't sure if she could, mostly out of fear of his reaction.

"You're engaged?" he asked, his eyes lighting up, the first signs of any real life existing inside him.

"No," Elizabeth answered, shaking her head as she looked up at Jason. "We're married."

"Really? But when?" he asked, squeezing her hands.

Her eyes filled with tears, and she didn't know if she could answer, knowing that he was thinking the same thoughts as she was. _He hadn't been there._

"Yesterday," Jason replied, resting his hand on her shoulder. "I apologize not having direct approval, but in your letter-"

"I remember very well what I said," he interrupted gleefully, looking Elizabeth in the face. "Oh, sweetheart, there is no better man to take care of you in my absence. Does this mean you're going back to Italy soon?"

"Not exactly," she whispered, realizing she was going to have to admit she'd disobeyed her father.

"Elizabeth feels that London is her home," Jason stepped in, sounding as worried as she felt. "She doesn't wish to leave, and I didn't have it in me to force her. I can't blame her for not wanting to leave with you awaiting trial for murder."

"The crime was done," Jeffrey sighed regretfully, "so I must await my punishment."

"I don't believe you did it," he replied, causing Elizabeth to gasp and look away. "I won't argue about this, but I just refuse to believe itwith you about this, but I don't believe you did this."

"You've spoken to Johnny," he father murmured, and she almost wanted him to tell them they had to leave London. "Do you intend to attempt to prove my innocence?"

"Is there innocence to prove?" Jason asked, clearly wanting Jeffrey to admit he hadn't killed Lucas Spencer.

"I trust you to protect my daughter," he replied seriously, shifting his eyes to Elizabeth, who reluctantly met her father's gaze.

"I will," he promised, "at any cost."

The door swung open at the opposite end of the hall. "Time's up," came the guard's rough voice.

"What? Already?" Elizabeth asked, feeling as though they'd barely visited with him.

"You must go," her father muttered, lifting one of his hands to stroke her cheek. "Have a wonderful life, darling. Don't spend it worrying about me."

"I can't have a wonderful life without you in it," she whispered, her lips trembling as her vision blurred.

_So much for her promise. _

"Of course you can," he argued gently, pulling his hands back through the bar. "Jason will take care of you, and you will take care of him. I'll be nothing more than a memory."

"That's impossible," she cried, angry with how he'd settled was so settled into his fate.

"Time is up," the guard called out again.

"We have to go," Jason said, his hand on her waist as he tried to pull her away from the cell.

"I can't," she sobbed, tears slipping down her face. She didn't have the strength to walk away not knowing what was going to happen or if she would ever see him again. "I can't leave him."

"Elizabeth, please, just go," her father begged, backing into his cell as if he couldn't stand being close to her. "Don't worry about me. As you can see, I'm fine."

"But you haven't gone to trial! You don't know what they'll do to you! This isn't fair!" she shouted, trying to jerk herself out of Jason's arms as he slid them around her and started to pull her away. "You didn't-"

"Elizabeth, stop right now young lady!" her father growled, his voice booming down the hallway. "You pull yourself together, and you walk out of her like a woman with her wits about her."

"I don't want to say goodbye to you," she whispered, giving into Jason and leaning against him so that he was practically holding her up. "I can't – not when you're all I've ever had."

"You have Jason now," he said, only reminding her that she had someone who wanted to be anywhere, but with her.

"It's not the sa-"

"Now or I'm going to drag you out," the guard threatened angrily.

"Go," Jeffrey said, pressing his lips to his fingers and holding them out to her. "I love you."

She mimicked his gesture and allowed Jason to pull her down the hallway. "I love you too," she replied, finally tearing herself from her husband's arms and rushing away from her father's cell.

"Elizabeth," Jason called, chasing after her.

She didn't stop running until she was outside, where she collapsed into a sobbing heap at the stop of the stairs. None of this was right, and she didn't see how she could leave her father in jail, awaiting trial.

"Elizabeth," Jason murmured quietly, kneeling down beside her and sliding his arms around her.

"It's not fair," she sobbed, coming apart in his arms, no longer caring about holding it together, or keeping her guard up. She was tired of being alone and trying to hold everything in. "He can't – Jason – they'll find him guilty for sure."

"They won't," he said, smoothing his hand up and down her back as he rested his chin on her head. "I won't let it happen. I promise you, Elizabeth, soon your father will be free."

"Please," she begged, burying her face in his shirt as she cried.

Despite all the reasons she knew that Jason would never free her father, she told herself that just for tonight she had no other choice but to believe him.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

_London, 1820…_

"Did you not expect her to get upset?" Johnny asked,asked, his hands on his hipsplacing his hands on his hips as he stood behind his desk. "Her father is on trial for murder, Jason. She was going to get emotional."

"She could barely walk home," he sighed, his heart tightening in his chest as he thought about how she'd acted the night before.

"Why did you walk?" he asked confused.

"She hadn't left the house in months and months. I thought she'd like to walk, get some fresh air. I thought it would be good for her."

"Well, it was," he replied, "but you can't see that because you're too focused on the fact that she was hurt."

"It was a horrible suggestion," Jason commented, shaking his head as he paced back and forth in Johnny's study.

"It was not," he replied, rolling his eyes as he sifted through papers on his desk.

"She's turned cold and distant again. It took days to get her to actually act as if she wanted to be around me."

"Which is an improvement seeing as you just showed up on her doorstep a little over a week ago, Jason."

"You have no idea what it's like to live with a woman who doesn't speak to you," he griped, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. "It was difficult enough before, but we started to make progress, and she seemed to enjoy being around me."

"She should probably see a doctor for that," Johnny snickered, sitting back in his desk chair and frowning at his friend. "You really know nothing about women, Jason."

"I've said it a thousand times," he growled, narrowing his eyes at him. "You marry one beautiful woman and you think you know everything."

"I do," he said smugly, his lips turning into a wide grin. "Did I ever tell you that Nadine didn't speak to me for nearly the first two weeks that we were married?"

Jason's pacing came to a halt and he turned to his friend, thinking that for the first time, Johnny may be able to help him. "No."

He chuckled, his face lighting up as if having his wife ignore him was actually funny. "She said I became too frisky on our wedding night."

"Oh, do I even want to hear this?" he asked, grimacing as he thought about his two oldest and closest friends in such a position.

"Well, she made me wait all that damn time," Johnny replied defensively, his eyes roaming over the papers in front of him. "I had a lot of frustration to get out."

"I don't want to hear this," Jason said, waving his hand at him. "The two of you – No." Johnny laughed, clearly enjoying this too much. "Besides I did nothing of the sort to Elizabeth."

"No, but I'm simply trying to show you that it's normal for the bride to get upset over things. Elizabeth is special because she learned in a matter of days she was going to be married, and she really didn't get to partake in any of the usual traditions. It was a lot for the young girl to handle."

Jason grunted, not wanting to agree with his friend, but damn Johnny if he didn't have to be right.

"I never did ask," his friend murmured with a smirk. "How did your wedding night go?"

"Nothing happened," he replied, not sure whether he was more annoyed that Johnny was asking about it or that nothing had in fact happened.

It wasn't that he expected anything to – after all, this was Jeffrey's daughter, and he had no intentions to take her to bed – _ever._ Unfortunately, it was still Jason's wedding night and he found himself somewhat confused by the fact that he'd actually gone as far as to get married, only to have none of the perks. He also wondered if Elizabeth had similar thoughts. It wasn't like she'd be married to anyone else after this, so she was losing her one chance to…Not that he would have done anything. This was Jeffrey's daughter, and he just simply could _not._

"Maybe that's why she's so upset," Johnny joked, stifling his laughter only when Jason gritted his teeth, unable to form any real words. "I apologize. It's very rude of me to talk about the lovely Mrs. Morgan in such a way."

"Yes, it is," he agreed, taking a seat in the oversized chair on the opposite side of the room.

Sighing, he closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over his face, not quite sure what to do at this point. He hadn't come to his best friend to be mocked and ridiculed for his situation. He'd come for advice, though he had no idea why because everything Johnny said failed to work.

"I'm afraid – I'm afraid she's going to lock herself in her room again," he confessed, shifting his eyes to meet Johnny's. "I know that this is hard for her, but carrying it on her own isn't good for her either."

"You want her to talk to you," Johnny grinned, scratching his chin. "You want her to confide in you and to trust you and to-"

"So what if I do?" he interrupted, glaring at him. "She is my wife and-"

"In order for her to do any of that, she's going to have to like you, Jason," he cut in exhaustedly, shaking his head. "It takes more than a few meals and conversations. You remember how short Nadine used to be with me?"

"That was different," Jason replied seriously, frowning heavily at the mention of the past. "Nadine was a special circumstance. She had every reason to want nothing to do with you."

"Perhaps Elizabeth has a special circumstance of her own," he shrugged, leaning forward as he slid a paper across the desk to him. "Lucas Spencer was murdered in her home, and neither of us believe her father did it."

"You think she knows who does," he muttered, sighing heavily as he thought about the weight his wife must be carrying.

Even if she didn't know that her father wasn't innocent, it was burden enough thinking he'd committed murder. And if she knew he was innocent? Then she knew the truth and was obviously torn between confessing or not, which her father may or may not have played a part in.

There were just _so many_ questions and answers he needed.

"Don't you think the same?" Johnny asked, motioning for him to come take the piece of paper. Jason didn't bother to reply, so his friend went on knowing it was a sensitive issue. "I've gathered a list of the staff that was on hand for Jeffrey during the time of the murder. Surprisingly enough, only one person was in the house."

"Who?" he inquired, pushing himself up from the chair. He crossed the room to the desk and braced his hands against the edge as his eyes roamed over the paper. "This isIs this the entire staff?"

"Yes. It isn't much, but as you know, Jeffrey always was a private person, and he kept to himself, not wanting very many people in his business."

"A maid, three servants, and a cook," Jason confirmed, not sure exactly what any of it met. "What about this Carly woman?"

"Completely dreadful," he croaked, rolling his eyes.

"I thought I was the only one who felt that way," he smirked, shaking his head at the thought of the rude blonde, who had been hanging around Elizabeth's – _his_ home. "She's so damn loud."

"And bossy."

"And self-centered," Jason laughed, knowing they shouldn't really be talking about the woman, but it felt so good to finally say how he felt. "She obviously wouldn't know a thing, right?"

"I wouldn't think so," he agreed, turning his attention back to the list. "I have no idea why Jeffrey kept Lulu on hand for so long. He must have pitied the poor girl because she's very inept. When Elizabeth let the staff go, Nadine asked that we hire her on. She's an only child, forced to take care of her alcoholic father, and well, you know how my wife is about helping others."

"Sounds like they had similar backgrounds," he said, knowing immediately that Lulu would be of no help.

"Very close," Johnny frowned, "except that it was Lulu's mother who suffered from madness, not her sister, like Nadine's. She thought she could help the young woman, but she was so damn annoying that Nadine had no choice but to let her go. She hated working and was faor more interested in other members of the staff than doing her actual chores."

"I assume she wasn't there the night of the murder," Jason muttered, waiting for Johnny to give him something.

"Not exactly," he corrected, lowering his voice as if someone would actually hear them. "Lulu told the authorities that she was out on the terrace – you know, very _busy_ with another servant, but she swears she didn't hear a thing."

"Which servant?"

"Logan, though rumors were that she let them both frisk her anytime they were on the job."

"Jeffrey knew this?" Jason frowned disgustedly.

"I would believe so. Nothing ever got past that man," he replied, leaning forward and pointing at a name on the list. "Robin, the cook, wasn't there, so she is completely clueless about what may or may not have happened."

"And Sonny?" he asked, lifting his eyes to Johnny's. "Sonny Corinthos was inside the home?"

"Yes," he answered, nodding slowly. "He told the authorities he saw the entire murder – that it was Jeffrey."

"I don't understand," Jason said, balling the piece of paper up into his fist. "If Sonny says he saw him – he's Jeffrey's oldest servant. If anything, I would think he'd want to help Jeffrey and Elizabeth in anyway that he could."

"Maybe he is," Johnny replied excitedly, getting up from his chair. "What if this supposed devoted servant is just that? So devoted to the extent that he'd be willing to lie?"

"Why would he lie and say that Jeffrey-" he stopped, getting up from the desk and scrubbinged his hands over his face. "No."

There'd been no doubt in his mind that Elizabeth had more knowledge than she was letting on. She was more than just distraught over her father being in prison, but he imagined that she'd simply seen the murder take place – that maybe there'd been some confusion, a fight with Lucas regarding Elizabeth, but…

"_No." _

"I think we should look at this from all sides, Jason," he said hesitantly, walking around the desk so that he was standing beside his friend. "We need to figure out how much Elizabeth _knows_."

"I don't like what you're implying," he growled, his eyes filling with fury.

"If you want to figure this out, you have to look at all possible suspects," Johnny muttered, his face darkening at the prospect of Elizabeth being involved. "I wouldn't like to imagine my own wife capable of such, but…"

"Was Elizabeth in the house?" he asked, clenching his shaky hands into fists at his sides.

"She was upstairs," he answered, looking as if he didn't believe it.

"I don't…" his voice trailed off, thinking of how withdrawn and terrified Elizabeth had been. Not to mention the fit she'd thrown while visiting her father.

What if _she_ was the reason it wasn't fair?

"She's the last possible suspect," he said firmly, not giving Johnny the chance to argue. His voice trembled as he spoke, seething from just the sheer thought of this. "I'll talk to the staff – to this Lulu woman – to Sonny – but Elizabeth – I _can't_ believe it."

"I'm so pleased you came with Jason today," Nadine murmured, after shooing the boys from the parlor room, Amalia tucked safely in the crook of her arm.

"He thought I might like to get out of the house for a while," Elizabeth replied, sitting stiffly on the sofa, her ankles crossed uncomfortably, but she just wasn't sure how to sit around company. It had been so long.

"Or perhaps you needed to get away from him," the blonde teased, sitting down across from her and rocking the baby in her arms. "I know how unbearable men can be."

"You should," she laughed quietly, grinning at her. "You have enough of them in your life."

She couldn't help but admire Nadine's ease about life. She hadn't spent much time with the woman, but it was clear that she did her best to keep her head about her amidst all the chaos. She didn't strike Elizabeth as the type to be over emotional or disturbed by things that went on around her, and she couldn't help but appreciate that when she was such a mess herself.

It'd been less than twenty-four hours since visiting her father, and despite her failed attempt at holding herself together, Jason had been so kind, which only infuriated her more. He'd all but carried her home in his arms from the prison, stroking her hair as he told her over and over that he would fix this, and she'd been truly awful in return.

Upon arriving atto the house, she'd headed straight for her room, slamming the door behind her, and she'd barely spoken to him this morning. She had no idea why she was acting this way. She knew she could trust him, or rather that she should, but that didn't make it any easier. It was difficult to not be so upset with the man who was promising to make everything better when she just couldn't understand how he was going to do it.

No one except her father had ever promised to take care of her and to make her happy, and the idea of Jason thinking he was so capable of it frustrated her to no end. He may be wealthy and have plenty of power, but that didn't mean he ran the world and would always get what he wanted.

Or perhaps she was just infuriated that she _wanted_ to trust him and that she _wanted_ him to fix this. Her father was hell-bent on her allowing Jason to replace him, and she didn't want to trust him when she knew he was just going to go away eventually.

"Are you happy?" Nadine asked, grimacing when Elizabeth looked at her with wide eyes. "I realize it's a rather personal question to ask, but I – I was a newlywed once. I know how impossible husbands can be." Shaking her head, she dropped her eyes to the baby and frowned. "Forgive me, I should have never asked. I have this horrible habit of asking the wrong questions and saying the wrong things. Johnny assures me it's endearing, but I know he's only trying to coddle me."

"No, it's quite alright," Elizabeth replied, smiling softly. "I just cannot remember the last time someone asked me how I felt."

It was an awkward confession, one that she wished to immediately take back, but Nadine took hold of it immediately. "You're used to being alone, and now you have Jason in your home, and his presence bleeds into everything. Suddenly, you're sharing more than your home. He's paying no attention to the china that you love so much or he dislikes a painting on a wall."

"Something like that," she agreed, relieved to have someone who understood her.

For months, her home had belonged solely to her and now it actually belonged to Jason. She valued her assets and her ability to keep her home the best she could, none of which seemed good enough for her new husband. She cooked poorly, her folded linens wrinkled, and he glared menacingly at a vase in the foyer every time he walked past it.

"Don't tell anyone this," Nadine muttered, her blue eyes sparkling as she leaned forward and lowered her voice, "but I firmly believe they never really do grow up. I should know, I have three sons and a husband all at very different age levels, but their capacity for understanding and behaving is one in the same."

Elizabeth laughed, genuinely amused for the first time in a while.

"Tony tests his limits just as much as his father does," she continued, shaking her head as she clucked her tongue. "Of course, my husband's interests are far different. He might say they have matured, but he's still like a little boy, always demanding more. And well, it's just exhausting after a while. There was a time when I wanted it just as much, and I suppose I still would if I wasn't trying to keep up with this bunch all the time."

She furrowed her brow, listening intently to the blonde, contemplating exactly what she was talking about before it clicked.

"Goodness," Nadine sighed, holding a hand to her mouth. "There I go again – talking without really thinking. I didn't wish to make you uncomfortable. Every time I bring it up to Johnny he tells me that a lady shouldn't have such a strong opinion about the matter – teasingly of course. But I'm afraid that I've never been much of a lady. Men don't have rules so why should I?"

"That is a bold way of looking at life," Elizabeth replied, appreciating the raw honesty of the woman.

"Well, my aunt Rayleen always said that a man wants a strong woman. One who weeps and whines and doesn't fight her way through life is such a bore," she sighed, talking more to the baby than to Elizabeth. "It's good to have opinions and desires, and it's even better to voice them."

"I've never been very good at that," she confessed, dwelling on Nadine's statement.

Perhaps that was the biggest issue between her and Jason; Elizabeth had been weepy and whiny, a total and complete mess, and maybe he wanted her to fight for her father with him, but it honestly wasn't feasible.

"Women are stronger than they think they are," she said seriously, settling back against her chair. "We bear children, we raise those children, and we worry about sending them out into the world, all the while dealing with our husbands. If that doesn't make us strong, then the other incidents that occur along the way surely will."

"Other incidents?" she inquired, worrying that she was being too intrusive, but she had the feeling that with Nadine there was no such thing.

"Sometimes terrible things happen, but it's how we grow from them that matters, Elizabeth," she answered, sighing heavily as if recalling something terrible of her own.

"But some things are just _that_ terrible," she stressed, sounding more defensive than she meant to.

"They are," Nadine agreed, nodding as she smiled at her, "but regardless of how horrid they might be, you have the power to control the outcome."

Elizabeth nibbled her lip and let out a shaky breath. "What if it's bigger than you are?" she asked, returning Nadine's apologetic smile, knowing they were both thinking of Jeffrey.

She shifted the baby in her arms to cradle her against her chest. "Then _you_ have to believe that you're strong enough to get through it."

Jason braced his elbow against the door of the carriage and scratched his brow as he looked over at his wife from the corner of his eye. She hadn't said much since they'd left the Zacharra estate, only commenting that she really did hope she and Nadine could be friends. Afterwards, she'd turned towards the window, appearing completely content with the silence.

He kept replaying his conversation with Johnny; upset that his friend would suggest something so terrible, but more infuriated that it may be true. Forget that Elizabeth was his wife and she should at least honor that in some way. Jason was attempting to free her father, and if she knew something, the least she could do wasould tell.

_Unless…_

He swallowed hard, taking in her petite frame and quiet ways. She would be weak against a man, _unless…_

The carriage came to a halt as it pulled up in front of their home. Elizabeth turned slowly in his direction, giving him a weak smile as she waited for him to climb out. His eyes dropped to her hands, suddenly recalling how her hand had trembled around the knife. He assumed she was thinking of her father, _unless…_

No, he refused to believe his wife was capable of such.

He simply refused.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

_London, 1820…_

Elizabeth frowned at the poorly filled tray of tea she'd managed to put together. It would have helped to have some kind of crackers or cookies to set with it or even some flowers, but instead she had nothing, leaving the silver to appear extremely bare. For most, it would have been embarrassing and they would have decided against serving the tea, but this was for Jason, and surely he was used to her being a disappointment.

Taking a deep breath, she lifted the tray with her trembling hands and started towards the study where her husband had been hiding out since last evening. He'd said goodnight in the foyer after offering to walk her to her room, which she declined as always, and then disappeared to the end of the hall. She knew what he was doing and knew that she should be helping him, but the idea of Jason freeing her father was completely overwhelming.

She wanted him to more than anything, but to put such faith in something she didn't believe was possible seemed daunting. Jason, however, was extremely determined. She assumed that was why they'd visited the Zacharras yesterday and wondered if Johnny was the one feeding him information. While Jason knew so little of the _actual_ facts regarding the case, he'd learned a lot in a short period of time, and as far as she knew Johnny had been his only contact.

She had no idea what her husband was planning or how he'd go about it, and she longed to take back the desperate plea she'd made in front of the jail. Maybe he would lose hope soon and realize it was an impossible task, and he should just annul their marriage and return to Italy. Though something told her that regardless of what happened regarding her father, she wouldn't be getting rid of Jason so easily.

Hence the peace offering in the form of tea.

Shifting the tray in her arms, she lifted her fist to knock on the door just as Jason opened it on the other side. Elizabeth jumped back in such a hurry that she dropped the tray and the china fell to the floor, liquid pooling across the hardwood floor as it shattered.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, kneeling down beside her as she stooped down and used the skirt of her dress to stop the liquid from running all over the hallway floor.

It may have no been the most lady-like of gestures, but well, she wasn't much of a lady. "It's alright. You just gave me a fright," she said weakly, pressing her skirt against the floor.

"Don't do that," he said, shifting to pull a handkerchief from his pocket. "You'll ruin your dress."

"It's just tea," she replied, shaking her head at her clumsy antics. "I thought – you didn't come out for breakfast, so I – I thought you would like…something."

The corner of his mouth twitched, as it always did when he fought a smile. "Thank you," he muttered, his eyes sweeping over the broken china. "Were you going to drink with me?"

"What?" she asked, tipping her head to the side to look at him, and then realizing she'd brought more than one cup. "Well, not exactly. I thought maybe Spinelli was in there with you."

"I sent him into town an hour ago. He was supposed to ask if you needed anything," Jason replied confused. She could tell from his face that he wasn't trying to call her a liar. He just wanted to make sure Spinelli had done as he asked.

_And Spinelli had. _

_She'd just been lying. _

"Oh, he did," she said, raking the china into a neat pile. "I – well – my father used to hide in his study a lot, but he never liked to drink tea…_alone." _

"You wanted to have tea with me?" he asked, a slow grin breaking across his face. He looked almost smug, which instantly disgusted her.

"Not exactly," she huffed, continuing to rake the china up with her hands. "Perhaps I imagined you had a wench over for lunch."

He chuckled loudly, his cerulean eyes lighting up with amusement. "Do men have wenches for lunch?"

She arched an eyebrow, determined not to let him make her out to be a fool. "Are you saying Jason Morgan treats his wenches like everyone else?" she asked, looking up from the floor. "I would assume that you like to give a little more in an attempt to be less of a disgusting pig than the other men like you."

"So if I feed a woman before I take her to bed I am a better man?" he asked, raking a hand through his blonde locks as he winked. "I'll be sure and remember that."

"No, I was simply saying that you would like to outdo…other men…in certain areas because it would give – you think it would give you…something to brag about," she stammered, turning her attention back to the floor.

He let out a laugh as he leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. "I most certainly outdo men in a certain area."

"Oh, you are such a – ow!" she howled, shaking her handhead as she lifted it from the floor, a thin stream of blood trickling down the side of her hand.

"You should have been careful," Jason muttered, taking her hand in his to look at the cut as he grabbed the handkerchief with his other and pressed it against her hand. He pulled her to her feet as he stood up and gently nodded his head in the direction of the kitchen. "I have no idea how you manage to injure yourself doing the simplest of tasks."

"It was broken china, and you distracted me with all your-"

"Comments about taking wenches to bed?" he asked, his hand still wrapped around hers as they stepped into the kitchen. He didn't even release her as they stepped through the doorway, insteadand just pressedsed himself against her so they'd fit through the narrow opening.

"I was busy being disgusteding by the idea of you taking wenches to bed," she hissed, stopping in front of the counter as he reached for a clean cloth that was folded on the counter.

"Does it make you jealous?" he asked, pulling the handkerchief away and puttinglling her hand up to his face.

"It makes me nauseous," she spat, holding one hand across her middle as she waited impatiently for him to release her. "It's just a tiny cut. Not the first I ever had – and ow! What are you doing?"

"There," he muttered, holding out a tiny piece of china on his fingertip. "If I wouldn't have gotten that out you would have had a nasty infection."

"Oh," she said, looking at herhand as he wrapped a cloth around it.

"It'll only bleed for a second or two more. I'll clean up the mess and the hallway, and perhaps the next time you want tea, you should let me prepare it," he teased, grinning at her as he headed out of the kitchen.

"Or maybe I should just toss it at your head!" she called after him, leaning against the counter as she frowned at her hand.

So much for nice gestures.

"You're quiet this afternoon," Johnny murmured, pointing to a tiny house at the end of the street. "That's Lulu's house."

"I had an interesting morning," Jason replied secretively, grinning to himself as he thought about how fun it had been to tease Elizabeth.

It felt almost normal, as if he'd been doing it for years. Her father's case and the possibility that she was a suspect seemed so far away, even after he'd stayed upthey'd kept him up all night worrying over those very issues. He felt rude for dismissing Elizabeth and all but sending her to her room when they'd gotten home last night, but he just needed time to think about what his friend had told him. The entire night had been spent playing with the possibilities surrounding the case, and he wanted to help Jeffrey and Elizabeth, but he worried he'd gotten himself into more than he bargained for.

"Things with Mrs. Morgan are pleasant?" his friend asked as they neared the house.

"Far from it," he grunted, shaking his head.

"Must you be so short with her?"

"How do you know I'm short?"

Johnny gave him a knowing ly look as they climbed the stairs to the front of the house. "Jason Morgan is only kind to a woman when he's in bed with her."

"You think so little of me," he said stiffly, looking around at the rickety front porch and flimsy door. It was barely hanging on the hinges, and he was pretty sure that if he knocked hard enough it would fall in.

"I could survey half the women in London and they would agree."

"None of those women are my wife."

Johnny grinned, arching an eyebrow. "So now Elizabeth means something?"

Honestly, he had no idea what she meant, but he sure as hell wasn't going to tell his friend this.

"Knock," Jason growled, nodding at the door.

Johnny just looked at him. "Being a Viscount has gone to your head," he hissed playfully, gently rapping on the door. "Let me talk to her at first, and get you in. Then you may-" He stopped when the door swung open to reveal a petite, timid blonde.

"Mr. Zacharra," she murmured, her hand clutching the door.

"Ms. Spencer," he replied, nodding politely. "If you could forgive the imposition, this is a detective that's been hired to look further into Jeffrey's case."

"I've already spoken to Mr. Lansing and-"

"He will compensate you for whatever you are willing to tell him."

"Oh, well. Then it's fine, I suppose," she said, stepping back and motioning them inside. "You'll have to be quick. My father's just stepped out, and if he comes home to find you here…"

"Understood," Johnny said, following her into the parlor room where she motioned for them to sit.

On the way over, he'd explained to Jason that Lulu's father was the town drunk, and he didn't take well to the law in any form. There were rumors around town that he'd practically chased Richard Lansing from his home with a pistol the day he'd come to question Lulu about the murder.

Thankfully Johnny knew the way to get to her and said that the mention of a payment would surely get her to talk. She'd found no employment upon being dismissed from his home, and sadly she was the only one to support herself and her alcoholic father.

"Forgive me, but I don't think Mr. Zacharra mentioned your name," she said nervously, sitting down across from them.

Jason hesitated briefly, not good with lying, but Johnny stepped in immediately. "This is Mr. Benjamin Keats."

"Mr. Keats," she repeated quietly, taking a deep breath. "What would you like to know?"

"You were there the night of Lucas Spencer's murder, correct?" She nodded obediently. "What do you remember?"

She grew flushed, clearly thinking of what she'd really been doing. "I was outside with another servant. I don't remember much. Elizabeth, Jeffrey's daughter – I remember her yelling, but I was later told that was after the man had already been murdered. When I – when I went back into the house Sonny – another servant – quickly ushered me out and sent me home."

Jason nodded slowly, trying to make sure he would remember everything she was saying. "And the other servant you were outside with? Where was he?"

"Cleaning up…the outside," she said hesitantly, her cheeks turning red again. "It was his last chore. He simply went home afterward."

"I see," he muttered, looking over at Johnny who was clearly amused by the idea of her romping around with the staff. "What do you know about Richard and Lucas? Primarily their relationship with Ms. Mor - Webber?"

The blonde barely noticed his stutter, her eyes lighting up with amusement. "Elizabeth marrying either of those men would have been a travesty. She was so cold and bitter to every suitor her father brought into the house. Heaven forbid she marry someone wealthy and handsome and have to leave her poor daddy behind. It was all very ridiculous, if I may say so."

"If you must," Jason interjected angrily, ignoring Johnny's glare.

No one was going to talk about _his_ wife that way in front of him.

"Both Mr. Spencer and Mr. Lansing adored Elizabeth so very much. Mr. Lansing used to call her a china doll, and from the very moment they met he placed her on a pedestal. He worshipped her and she was very aware of it. As for Mr. Spencer, he wanted her just as badly. Honestly, I would not be surprised if she was going back and forth between both men like some dreadful tramp."

Jason clenched his fists at his sides. "You're bold to call her such a name," he hissed, getting up from the couch. "Were you not going to bed with most of the Webber staff?"

Her face hardened instantly, and she got up from her seat and pointed towards the door. "You may see yourselves out."

"Gladly," he grunted, heading for the door.

"I may be inclined to tell Mr. Lansing about your visit, Mr. Keats," she called after him.

"If you must," Johnny replied, dropping a small roll of cash onto the couch before following after his friend.

Jason started down the stairs to the street when Johnny appeared on the porch. He scrubbed a hand over his face, doing his best not to allow Lulu's words to upset him. He may be stupid about a lot of things when it came to women, but he knew his wife was no whore and that if anything, Lulu was jealous of the life Elizabeth had.

"That went well," Johnny chuckled, falling into step behind him.

"Elizabeth is not a tramp," he said firmly.

"You care what people think," he replied, flashing him a smile.

"I don't, but she's simply not, and for some jealous little shrew to spread lies – just think of everyone she's probably told."

"You care," he repeated, humming quietly to himself.

"This is about Jeffrey – freeing him and reuniting him with his daughter," he said seriously, sliding his hands into his pants pockets.

"Where will you go after?" Johnny asked pointedly, tugging his ear nervously as if he'd said something that would really offend Jason.

"Back to Italy," he answered simply, not sure why that was so difficult to understand.

"You'll free Jeffrey. Divorce his daughter. Then disappear," he murmured, letting out a heavy sigh as he looked over at his friend.

"Yes. And it will be an annulment."

"For now," he teased, arching his eyebrows at him. "I'm saying this seriously though, Jason. Be it an annulment or a divorce – are you telling me you'll pack your things and disappear back to Italy without so much as a second thought?"

"She won't need me. Neither will Jeffrey."

Johnny clucked his tongue and reached over to slap his hand on Jason's shoulder. "You can't even see what's right in front of you," he frowned. "Elizabeth already needs you. She did before you came, and she'll need you after you're gone."

He stiffened, jerking himself away from his friend's touch. "Being married has really gone to your head."

Elizabeth sat at the kitchen table, tracing her fingertip over the tiny slice from the china. It'd already scabbed over and was just a speck on her skin, and for some reason she'd found herself fascinated by it.

She assumed it was her father's influence; having always enjoyed cuts and bruises and broken bones. She even knew how to take care of most of those injuries, yet Jason acted as if she knew nothing at all. It almost reminded her of her father with the way he'd fret every time she stubbed a toe or pricked her finger. Only she knew her father was looking at it from the eyes of a doctor, and Jason – well, she couldn't figure out exactly how he looked at her.

Sure, she was an obligation, a promise made to her father, but he touched her so tenderly and his eyes were worried. She could still feel his hand on hers, how warm and rough his palm was against her hand, and how empty her hand felt when he let go. It was a strange feeling, one of complete safety. She'd only felt that with her father, and even then it was different. His touch was delicate and sensual, the way she imagined a woman should feel when she was touched by a man, and that was an overwhelming thought on its own.

It made her blush in the most delicious of ways, yet she felt dirty and wrong, not to mention that she had no idea what she was supposed to do with such feelings.

"Good evening," she heard him mutter, his voice smooth as silk as she slipped into the kitchen. "Did Spinelli prepare dinner?"

She got up from the table and held her hands behind her back as if she got caught doing something wrong. "Um – yes, he did…" Her voice trailed off when she settled on his warm gaze, and she felt her cheeks flush. " He – he left again…said – said you had more errands for him."

"Yes," he muttered, opening the pot on the stove and leaning over it as he sniffed. "Smells wonderful."

"It was quite good," she agreed, walking over to him, feeling eager to close their distance.

"You ate?" he asked, sounding disappointed.

"I wasn't sure how long you were going to be out, and I was quite famished," she apologized, holding a hand to her stomach. She wasn't going to explain about the flutters in her stomach and how she'd only managed to get down a bite or two before having to stop.

Perhaps this was just the way a wife was supposed to feel.

She'd have to find someone to ask about these feelings.

It was difficult enough to live in the house with this man she barely knew, let alone realizing; only to realize she was attracted him. That is what it was right? She found herself wanting to be around him, to know about him, and wanting to make him happy.

She'd have to find someone to ask about these feelings. Perhaps this was just the way a wife was supposed to feel.

Carly was most definitely out, seeing as she hadn't exactly warmed up to Elizabeth's sudden marriage. Or worse, she'd question why Elizabeth had yet to go to bed with her husband, and she couldn't rightly explain why.

_This entire situation confused her so very much. _

She supposed she could ask Spinelli, but that seemed too personal for the man, especially seeing as he worked for Jason.

That only left Nadine, who was probably the most ideal out of the handful of people she knew, only she wasn't sure how to go about asking such questions.

"Elizabeth?"

"Wha – Yes," she nodded, realizing he'd asked her a question, but she'd been too focused on anything but his words.

"Tomorrow, then?" he asked again, as he plated his food.

"Erm…"

"You weren't listening," he grinned.

"I'm afraid not," she apologized, returning his smile, which was quite nice.

"I would like to see Sonny Corinthos," he said, taking a bite of his food. "Johnny and I stopped by this afternoon, but no one answered, and I may be wrong, but I think he was home."

"Oh," she murmured, resting her hip against the counter. "He may have been. Sonny's quite a recluse."

"Why?" he asked curiously, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was prying for some sort of information.

She wondered _lots_ of things about this man.

"His wife passed away days after the – the murder," she answered, nibbling her lip. It was almost instant these days for her eyes to well up with tears at the mention of her father. "He adored her so much, and he was heartbroken. I hated to let him go, but he worried that with the rest of the staff being gone people would say things."

"People always say things," he said, abandoning his food as he turned towards her.

"Well, a man who just lost his wife moving in with a young woman that no man will ever want – it would look inappropriate."

"Do you have to say it like that?" he asked, his eyes darkening as he looked at her. The question confused her so she didn't say anything. "You always say you're a woman that no man will ever want."

"My father has been labeled a murderer. No one will ever treat me kindly, and no man will ever want me."

"That isn't true," he replied thickly.

She felt that familiar flutter at his tone, and she could barely keep her eyes on his. "Well, this man, whoever he may be, is in the minority."

"He may not mind that," he said, tipping his head to the side as he dropped his head just a bit.

"Are you making fun of me?" she asked, bracing one hand against the counter.

"I would never," he quipped, causing her to roll her eyes.

"You're a terrible man, Jason," she murmured, rubbing a hand nervously over her chest as he continued to stare at her.

"I was looking out for you," he continued to tease.

"As you've been told to do," she retorted, telling herself that if Jason could pry her for information, she would figure out a way to getfor him to tell her what she wanted to know.

"If only you were as a coy as you believe yourself to be," he said, suddenly reaching for her hand and turning it in his to check the barely visible cut.

She'd like to think that he just _wanted_ to touch her, but she had no idea what motivated either of them at this point.

"Do you wish for me to be honest?" she asked softly, the fluttering practically bursting inside her as he stroked his finger over the cut.

"Always."

"I want – I wanted to have tea with you this morning," she admitted, swallowing hard as he continued to hold her hand. "I want – want to help you, but I don't know how."

"Help me?" he asked softly, his face inching closer to hers.

"With…everything," she answered, not sure exactly how to answer. "My father's case mostly, I suppose, but I…" He waited patiently for her to finish. "Our situation is complicated and far from traditional, and like you, I don't wish for my – _my_ husband to be miserable."

"You want to make me happy?" he asked surprised, his hand gently tightening around hers.

"Yes," she confessed, waiting for him to turn her admission into something it wasn't.

"Why?" he asked roughly.

"It's my duty as your wife," she answered seriously, confused when he dropped her hand and backed away.

He shook his head as he turned back to his food, his entire demeanor suddenly changing. "Don't do anything on my part," he said, picking up his plate and walking over to the table. "You owe me nothing. Just bide your time until your father is free."

"Oh," she whispered, frowning as she watched him take a seat at the table. "I thought _you_ wanted me." He didn't look up or even acknowledged that she'd spoken, so she assumed he hadn't heard her and headed out of the kitchen.

It was only when she started up the stairs that Jason turned his head towards where she'd been standing. He'd heard her.

He'd heard her_very_her_ very_ clearly.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

_London, 1820…_

Elizabeth may not know much about being married, but she did know her husband was miserable, and that it was because of her. Every attempt she made to do something for him; be it through bringing him tea, making sure he had clean bed sheets, or simply giving a smile completely failed.

There were brief moments, like last night in the kitchen, when she was so sure he genuinely liked her. He worried about her hurting herself and often tried to comfort her when she became emotional, and he kept repeating that there was someone out there who did want her. Silly her, she actually thought he was talking about himself.

Perhaps her emotions were getting the best of her. Her father was the only man she'd been close to, and having Jason in her home forced her to feel all kinds of things, and she had no idea what to do with any of it. She was so confused about whether or not her feelings were sincere or if she thought she was feeling them because she was supposed to.

After all, Jason was her husband, and she should be pleasing him in _every_ way. Not that she knew all of what that entailed, but Jason was clearly a man who knew exactly what he wanted, and he could easily tell her what to do. Or simply show her. Of course, that would mean admitting that his wife was incompetent in many ways, and maybe he didn't want Elizabeth to feel inferior.

Wasn't this whole situation – the engagement, the hushed and hurried marriage – all about making her inferior?

She hated him for this; for making her feel things and confusing her in every possible way, and mostly she hated him for not wanting her. It wasn't kind of him to tease her the way he did. Stroking her hands tenderly with his rough fingers or whispering sweet sentiments in a tone of voice she wasn't used to hearing from anyone. She wanted him to genuinely care about her because…because she cared about him, and it only seemed fair.

Was he not the least bit concerned about pleasing her in _every_ way? Or was he that firm about all of this being about her father? Did he not feel _anything_ for her? She was his wife and had just as many needs as he did, and she wanted him to at least enjoy her company, unless she was truly that impossible.

Sighing, she smoothed her hands over the front of her dress and looked herself over in her bedroom mirror. Maybe she wasn't as beautiful as the women that Jason was used to chasing after, but how gorgeous were wenches anyway? She had overly plump lips that this awful boy used to tease her about when they were children, but she'd always found them attractive; maybe even luscious and full. A man was supposed to like that kind of thing, right?

She'd always been particularly fond of her hair. It was as dark as chestnuts, full and curly. On a good day it tightened into fat, round curls, and she always wished she could leave it long and flowing instead of pinning it to the back of her head. She liked to think she had pretty eyes too, though some might say they were a little too round, but were eyes _that_ important?

When she thought it, there was no reason for Jason not to want her, unless it really did come down to experience. It made sense for a man to want a woman who knew exactly what she was doing;, it wasn't as if she were the first virgin to exist in all the world.

"Elizabeth?" came Jason's rough voice, followed by a knock on her door.

"Just – just a moment," she stammered, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as if he actually knew what she was thinking. Grabbing a pin from her dresser, she swept up a loose curl as she made her way over to the door, trying to forget the awful incident that had occurred the night before.

"Forgive me for taking so long," she murmured, opening her door to find Jason in a trimly buttoned shirt and trousers and his usual unkempt hair neatly combed. She would have told him he looked handsome, but she doubted he wanted to hear such a comment. "I assumed you'd want to go early…" Her voice trailed off when she noticed he was holding a tray of food in his hands.

"I wanted to leave you something to eat," he muttered, his eyes sweeping over her and lingering on her dress. "I wasn't sure if you were coming out of your room or not."

She stepped back and held her hands across her middle, looking at him confused. "Are we not visiting Sonny this afternoon?"

"Oh, well, I thought…" He cleared his throat, making it clear he had no idea what he thought anymore.

"Last night you…" She shook her head and turned away, walking across her bedroom to the window. A lot of things had been said last night, some not even needing to be spoken, and she had clearly misunderstood so much. Now he wanted nothing to do with her period. "Leave the food on the table by the door. We can see Sonny another time…or you can find another way that doesn't involve in me."

"Elizabeth, I-"

"Do not need my help," she interrupted, sliding the curtain away from the window and peering outside. She'd honestly been looking forward to being outside in the afternoon sun. "Leave the food, please. I'll see you at dinner if you think you can manage to sit across the table from me."

"Elizabeth-"

"Leave," she hissed, closing the curtain and turning to face him. She was surprised by how…_upset_ he appeared as he dropped the traytable onto the tabletray and stared at her in disbelief. "Really, Jason, I understand very clearly now. There is no need to worry. You handle my father's case to the best ofto your ability, and I'll sit here and be the dutiful, submissive wife." She shifted her eyes to his and held his gaze for nearly an entire minute, amused that he appeared dumbfounded. "Only I won't be submissive in _all_ ways."

He sucked in a breath, his face reddening at her words, and just when she thought he'd completely explode, he turned and walked off of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Jason shut the door to his bedroom so hard the wood cracked around the hinges, but he paid it no attention, intent of finding something to smash or tear apart that would relax him. Jerking the coffee mug from his nightstand, he sent it flying across the room and felt the tiniest pang of relief when it shattered against the wall. It only took smashing the few candlesticks he had lying around the room, the mirror on the wall, and kicking his unpacked suitcase across the floor before he started to calm down.

Elizabeth Webber – No, Elizabeth _Morgan_ r…Morgan, he corrected, was either the smartest or stupidest woman he'd ever met, and he wasn't going to believe she was the latter. Turning on him and becoming so cold because he hadn't done what she wanted. Hell, he didn't even know what she wanted, and he doubted that she had any idea. She was just a silly, young girl probably playing on some fantasy of being a wife because she believed she'd never have the chance again.

But with how things were looking regarding Jeffrey's case, she may not have to worry about being alone because she'd be stuck with Jason forever. Or at least until he convinced her to go back to Italy where she could find a life of her own. Of course, there was always the possibility that they'd drive one another completely mad before it was said and done.

Groaning, he undid the first few buttons of his shirt, trying to catch his breath as he fanned himself. He'd done nothing but try to make this situation with her easy. Sure, he may have been impatient and rude when he first arrived, but he wasn't used to dealing with a woman like her. So innocent and pure that they hadn't a clue about the world yet thought they knew everything. Maybe most men would take advantage of the situation, but he wouldn't use Elizabeth – _even if she wanted to use him._

Every action was motivated by his determination to free Jeffrey, and so what if he didn't want his daughter to be miserable. That wasn't a bad thing, and he wasn't some horrid man like Elizabeth was making him out to be.

Yes, he worried about her well being, especially when it came her being so accident prone and oblivious to what was going on around her.

Yes, he wanted her to be happy when she had so much to offer, but was so stilted by what had happened with her father.

Did he want to protect her? And even be the one to make her happy? Of course, he did, but it wasn't like she had anyone else around to do it. Jason Morgan was the sole man in her life, and that put a lot of pressure on his shoulders, especially when the damn woman was so set on getting something he wasn't going to give her.

_Not that he didn't want to. _

It was impossible not to look at her and imagine what it would be like. To know that he could easily pull her into his arms and coax out sounds and feelings she'd never had before – and better yet, that he'd be the _first_ man to do make her feel that way.

She was beautiful in every way; gorgeous, chocolate curls that he just knew would feel like silk around his fingertips, soft, plump lips that would feel like velvet against his own. And he even liked to think about how her wide, blue eyes would sparkle when he touched her. He wanted her, probably more than he had ever wanted a woman before, but the fierceness of his desire was what made him think again.

In the past, he'd never pursued a woman. As conceited as it may sound, they simply came to him, and that was all he ever needed. And it wasn't that he didn't wish to pursue Elizabeth – he liked to think it would be quite fun, but it was the fact that she was the kind of woman who _deserved_ to be pursued.

_Something of which he had no idea how to go about. _

Then there was the fact that she was the daughter of one of the most important men in Jason's life. He knew that in Jeffrey's eyes they were married and consummation and adoration and all those types of actions and feelings that came with being married would ensue, but it didn't stop him from worrying about ruining her.

She was so pure and with so much as the wrong flick of his finger, he could leave her wasted in his path. Hurt and alone – though maybe that was where she was headed anyway.

What if Johnny was right? What would happen if he freed Jeffrey? Would the man expect him to stick around and stay married to his daughter? Or would he understand that it was all for show?

Jason knew that if Jeffrey wanted him to stay married to Elizabeth – well, that it would leave him with only two choices. To either cut ties with the man who had once saved his life or stay married to a woman who hated him.

It was just _so_ confusing.

He had no idea how Johnny managed to survive being married after all these years. His friend just may be onto something with all the advice he was spewing, but none of it helped him figure out what to do with Elizabeth. He was kind and gentle, and she was throwing herself at him, offering to make him happy in every possible way…unless she didn't know what exactly that offer entailed.

So, she wasn't stupid. Just clueless. She could have been offering to cook him dinner or change his sheets or just to go for a walk, and here he was thinking that she was begging to be taken to bed.

Shaking his head, he sat down on the edge of bed and rested his elbows on his knees as he cradled his face. Or she was smart enough to know that turning Jason away so coldly only turned him on more.

Damn her.

Scowling, he fell back against the bed and stared up at the ceiling, contemplating how to figure out exactly what she wanted, and what he was going to do when he did.

Nibbling her lip, Elizabeth ran her fingers across the spines of the books lining her father's bookshelf, failing to find anything that she actually wanted to read. Spinelli had bought every paper in town that morning, but she'd already gotten through them all, and she needed something so mind-numbing it would prevent her from thinking about Jason in the slightest bit.

Carly had always told her that men were complicated, and the woman should know because she had enough troubles of her own. She'd been married once and gone on to have several risqué relationships with various men in town, saying she always fell the hardest for the ones who couldn't love her the right way, but needed her to love them.

Elizabeth had never quite understood what she meant till now and had spent the greater part of the afternoon trying to articulately apply it to her situation with Jason. Even now, hours later, she couldn't stop thinking about it. At first, she wondered if it was because she'd skipped dinner in an attempt to avoid him completely, which only made her think about him more, and realized that there really was no way to stop thinking about him entirely. He was consuming her, and she hated him for it.

It wasn't that she'd fallen in love with the stupid man by any means, but he did make her _feel_ things which he obviously didn't feel in return. She wondered if that was how it was going to be – if he would never return her sentiments, thus never really wanting her the way she did him, but needing her nonetheless.

_Oh, men._

They were just far too confusing for her with their inability to speak and confess, or maybe Jason wasn't used to having to do either. He was one of the most handsome men she'd ever seen – not that she'd seen many really, but still, she imagined there were few who could compete. And if he really was a Viscount as was said, women surely longed for him, and he'd made it clear he had no problem with taking a wench to bed.

That disgusted her the most – to know that he could allow himself to get close to a woman whose name he didn't even know, yet he hated the idea of Elizabeth knowing him period…unless that was point. He was so secretive about who he was and his life and maybe he didn't want her to know anything which only made her ask why.

He couldn't have been a bad man if her father asked him to come and look after her, and while he had been rough in the beginning, he was kind now, except that he pulled away when she got close. She wanted him to trust her and tell her things, which wasn't fair seeing as she'd done so little of that on her end.

Closing her eyes, she leaned forward and rested her head against the bookcase, wishing that she were anywhere but here. The house was so different now without her father; quieter, less hustle and bustle of patients, no sound of the staff scurrying around the house. It was like there was nothing, and she was forced to live among it.

"Eliza-"

"Do you have to do that?" she cried, spinning around, a hand pressed to her chest as Jason entered the study.

"Do what?" he asked, pushing the door half closed as he looked at her.

"You're always appearing out of thin air."

"Should I announce myself when I enter the room?" he asked teasingly.

She pursed her lips together, ignoring the handsome smirk that spread across his lips. "I would appreciate it. I feel like I have to be on guard in my own home."

"From now on, I'll announce that Jason Morgan is preparing to enter whatever room it is I've come across," he replied, walking over to the desk and flipping through a stack of papers.

"Thank you," she hissed, annoyed that he was making fun of her.

"What are you doing in here?" he asked, sitting down on the edge of the desk and tipping his head towards her.

She frowned and looked towards the door, not sure if there was some rule now about this room being forbidden. "I was…I was looking for a…book."

"A book?" he asked, his mouth hitching into a wide grin that made his eyes soften.

"Yes, contrary to what you believe, I do know how to read," she hissed, narrowing her gaze.

"I wouldn't doubt such," he replied, pushing himself up from the desk and slowly walking over to her.

"I wasn't – wasn't prying," she said defensively, backing up against the bookcase. "I told you that my father's case is on your shoulders now. I am going to stay in the background."

"You didn't come to dinner," he muttered, coming to a stop in front of her, his eyes sweeping over the books.

"I wasn't sure if you'd want to eat with me," she replied, chewing her lip when he moved in his closer.

"You've misconstrued everything that happened last night." He dropped his eyes to hers, and she tried to ignore how close he was, the way he smelled, how easily he could have pinned her against the bookcase…and well, she had no idea what he would do, but she doubted she'd even like it.

"You tease me," she said seriously, craning her neck in an attempt so that she could stare him in the eye and not have to look up at him. "You take care of me. You hold me. You mock me. You tell me someone wants me, all the while doing those things which would lead anyone with a brain to assume that you're the one who wants me, only you don't. I thought we surpassed this marriage being some silly game, unless I was wrong and that's all-"

"I never said I didn't want you," he interrupted, his voice thick and rough in that tone that made her tingle.

"Your actions spoke for you," she replied seriously. "I offered – offered to do what it takes to make you happy-"

"Because you feel obligated as some wifely duty," he cut in, shaking his head. "I'd rather you make me miserable if that's what you really want."

"You don't know what I really want," she said softly, her hands braced against the shelves at her sides. "You never even asked…"

He sucked in a breath, tipping his head to the side as he looked down at her. "What do you want, Elizabeth?"

"I – I don't really know," she admitted, suddenly feeling more vulnerable than she'd like to be.

"Exactly," he grunted, starting to turn away, but she reached out grabbed his wrist to stop him.

"You…I don't know what I'm feeling," she shrugged, wanting him to do anything but walk away from her. "I've never felt these things and…I think that I want…"

"You've never been involved with a man before," he said, his voice still rough and low.

She started to shake her head, but stopped and looked up at him shyly, her hand still wrapped loosely around his wrist. "Well, not – not exactly."

"You've never even been kissed," he commented, shaking his head as if that were the most unbelievable thing imaginable.

"No," she argued, her cheeks flushing at her confession. "I was…once. I didn't rightly want him to kiss me though."

Jason grunted, unable to hide his amusement. "I take it that didn't exactly go over well?"

She couldn't help but smile, suddenly feeling relaxed and less worried that he'd find her ridiculous. "No. I – I stomped his foot, which only made him howl." She dropped her eyes from his face and leaned back against the bookcase. "It wasn't good…at all."

"I see," he muttered, letting her words soak in. He pulled his hand from her wrist to gently hold her palm in his. "And if… – if I were to kiss you?"

"Oh," she whispered, her eyes widening with surprise. "Well…I don't suppose I'd stomp your foot." Swallowing hard, she lifted her eyes back to his. "And hopefully you wouldn't howl afterwards."

"I don't imagine I would," he murmured, lifting a hand to cup her cheek.

Her eyes closed instantly, and she couldn't stop herself from nuzzling against his palm. His touch was as warm and tender as she thought it would be, and she suddenly wanted to feel his hands everywhere.

"Jas-" She started only to be cut off as he gently placed his mouth to hers.

His lips were soft and warm and one brush of them to hers took her breath away. She melted into him instantly, fisting one hand in his shirt as she linked her fingers in his with the other. Her lips parted as she sighed, and she felt his tongue flick across her lower lip, tugging it into his mouth. She started to pull away, surprised by his eagerness, but he murmured that it was okay, and suddenly nothing else mattered.

It felt natural, to be standing there with Jason's arms around her, his tongue slowly making its way into her mouth and finding her own. The initial touch of them together caused her to moan, and he tightened his arms around her, and she pressed herself against him, wanting to feel so much of him at once.

"Jason," she panted, dropping her head to his shoulder as his mouth brushed over her cheek, and then found her neck. She felt dizzy and faint as if she could barely catch her breath, but didn't want any of this to stop.

Her pants turned into a moan as he gently pushed her back against the bookcase, his mouth sucking at the tender flesh of her neck as he thrust his hips against her. Her voice was loud and foreign, so different than usual, and she immediately tried to stifle the next moan that begged to come from her lips.

"Don't," he said, pulling his head back to look at her. "It's okay."

"I just…I don't…."

His mouth was on hers before she could finish her thought, and she was lost in the way his tongue swirled so soothingly around hers and his teeth sank into her lower lip, drawing it into his mouth. She moaned – louder this time – when he rocked against her, feeling her stomach tightened every time his hips met hers.

"Sir, is everything-"

"Spinelli!" Jason snarled, pushing himself away from the bookcase and wiping his hand over his mouth.

"Forgive me, sir…I heard…I thought…" Spinelli shook his head and looked between the two of them, his eyes lingering on Elizabeth.

She let out a whimper, mostly embarrassed to have been caught in a compromising position. Her eyes shot to Jason's, who looked away from her immediately, and she couldn't help but feel that he regretted what had just happened. She smoothed a hand over her neck as if to wipe away where his mouth had touched her, she started for the door and stammered an apology over her shoulder, feeling terrible when she heard Jason barking at Spinelli behind her. Tears pricked her eyes as she hurried up the stairs, desperate to put herself as far away from the entire situation as possible.

Once she made it to her room, she slammed the door, pressing her back against it as she slowly lowered herself to the floor. She wasn't sure how long she sat there, the touch of his lips still burning her mouth, her stomach still on fire from how he'd moved against her. Her heart lifted in her chest when she heard the floorboards creak in the hallway, and she knew it was Jason hesitating outside her door.

Only this time, he didn't knock.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

_London, 1820…_

Elizabeth was determined to beat Jason out of bed and into the kitchen, but the by the time she'd made it downstairs, he was already gone for the day. She'd found Spinelli sitting alone at the table, flipping through a stack of papers, a cup of tea in his hand. The moment he lifted his eyes to hers, his cheeks grew flushed. He started murmuring about everything he had to do for Jason, disappearing before she had the chance to say good morning. She understood the poor man's embarrassment and knew that he would likely replay the sight of Elizabeth pinned against a bookcase by Jason for some time to come.

As would she.

She'd tried hard to forget about it. How even through the material of her dress, his hands felt so warm and rough, yet were extremely gentle. , Aand how soft his lips were against hers, and how he kissed her slowly, easing into it as if to make sure that she not only understood exactly how it was supposed to go, but that she enjoyed it too.

And she had.

More than she ever imagined she would. Carly had talked to her about such incidents with men, and she'd come across Lulu with more than one member of the staff time and time again, but it was still very strange to her. She could never see herself in those types of situations and struggled with the fact that she suddenly wanted to be – _with Jason._

She didn't like the ease she felt around him. Even in the beginning, when she was afraid, more so of upsetting him or doing something wrong, she felt safe and at peace knowing he was there. She liked to believe it was all those months of being alone getting the best of her, but when Jason wasn't being a complete scoundrel, she liked him.

After last night, she liked to think he liked her too, but she wasn't so sure. He was a man, and Carly always said they cared about three things; where their next meal came from, their booze, and who was keeping their bed warm. Jason had Spinelli to cook his meals and could go to any pub in town for booze, so he was clearly lacking someone in bed, and maybe that's why he'd finally pursued her.

Or maybe he hadn't wanted to, but couldn't stop himself.?

It was somewhat of a romantic thought, which seemed silly seeing as Jason Morgan was anything but a romantic. She wouldn't be surprised if his idea of taking a woman to bed really did involve throwing her over his shoulder and kicking her out of bed a half hour later. Maybe longer – she wasn't really sure how long something like _that_ took.

Sighing, she slumped over her cold cup of tea as she tried to figure out what to do with herself. She'd sat through breakfast and lunch, waiting for Jason to come home, and she was starting to feel ridiculous. What kind of woman sat around all day waiting on a man? Granted, she really had nothing to do, but it didn't seem fair.

Was he thinking about her?

She snorted at the thought, pushing her chair back as she got up from the table and carried her teacup over to the sink. He was most likely off focusing on her father's case and how he would make the impossible happen. She shouldn't hold it against him for doing something so selfless. He could have ignored her father's letter and gone on with his life instead of involving himself in this entire mess, just like he could have been completely horrible to her all the time instead of wanting her to be happy.

_Stupid man._

Nothing he did or said made the tiniest bit of sense, and it was completely silly of her to sit here and – She paused mid-thought when she heard a knock on the door and failed to ignore the slight flutter in her chest that thought, just maybe, it was Jason. Of course, it wasn't him because he had a key and he was most definitely not the type to forget such things, but there was always a chance.

He was going to be end of her.

Sighing, she hurried into the foyer, wondering who it could be and how embarrassing it wasould be that she had to answer the door. If theresomeone was a visitoring, it was someone to see Jason, not her, and how inappropriate was it to have his wife answering the front door. She'd have to talk to him about a staff or something of the sort – _if he came around her again._

"Nadine!" she gasped, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "What a surprise, I-"

"I hope you don't mind," the tiny blonde interrupted, shifting Amalia in her arms. "I came into town to run some errands, and now I've left the boys to run amuck with Trevor – he's someone on our staff. Johnny can't stand him, but the boys love him, and he worked for Anthony, so…" She gave Elizabeth a nervous smile as she continued to ramble. "I know it's rude to come by without so much as a note or some warning, but I know Jason is out with Johnny, and…"

"With Johnny," she murmured, mostly to herself, relieved to see that husbands actually told their wives where they were going, and it wasn't some high expectation she'd had for hers. "Please, come in."

"I hope I'm not interrupting or coming at a bad time," she said worriedly, looking around the foyer, a soft smile on her face. "Oh, it looks just how I remembered."

"You haven't been here in a while," Elizabeth replied, shifting her eyes around the house and wondering why everyone who stepped in the foyer seemed to instantly transform. She wanted to see what they sawdid; what magical place they disappeared to upon entering her home. It was impossible not to be jealous when her memories were so horrible.

"No," she answered, her eyes landing on Elizabeth's. "I – I stayed here for a while when I was younger." She nibbled her lip at the confession, clearly wondering if she should take it back.

"You were a patient?" Elizabeth asked, motioning her towards the kitchen, assuming she should put on a pot of tea or something. It had been so long since she'd had a visitor that she almost forgot how to act.

"Yes. I'd just turned seventeen. It was such a long time ago," she replied fondly, adjusting the baby in her arms as she watched Elizabeth fuss over the tea. "You don't have to go to any trouble. I mostly wanted to stop by and see how you were doing."

She let out a shaky breath as she sat the pot on the stove, and Nadine reached out and placed her hand on her shoulder. "I was a new bride once, and I had no one to talk to, so if you need someone, Elizabeth..."

"I have no idea what I'm doing," she admitted shyly, her eyes filling with tears. "I've been alone for so long, and Jason isn't – he's not an easy man by any means. He doesn't expect much. Honestly, I don't know if he expects anything, and I'm just…"

"Confused?" Nadine offered, propping Amalia against her chest when she started to fuss. She gently smoothed her hand up and down the baby's back, and she quieted instantly. Elizabeth couldn't help and be the tiniest bit jealous that the woman seemed to have everything so under control.

"Very," she sighed, chewing her lip as she stared into the pot. "He's very private, which I understand because I am too, but I have no idea what he wants…"

"Oh, Elizabeth," she laughed, nudging her with her elbow. "Jason doesn't know what he wants, and he probably isn't even thinking about what he wants. I've known him long enough to know that, if anything, he's stressing over what _you_ want and _you_ need."

Elizabeth nodded, anything but pleased with her response. It only made her feel more confused. "What if I'm not sure?"

"What do you think you want?" Nadine asked challengingly, giving her a serious smile. "I was terrified when I married Johnny. I had no doubt that he cared for me and loved me very much, but I was so afraid. Getting married forces you to be close, and Johnny and I were fuarther apart afterwhen we wed than we were before. There's a lot of space to be filled with expectations and needs and desires, and the only way to deal with that is to at least figure out your own. Once you share that, he'll return his own sentiments."

"I…I…This is all so new to me," she stammered, smoothing her hands nervously over the front of her dress. "I've had suitors. I was prepared to be a wife, but none of them madke me feel the way Jason does."

"And you have no idea what to do with those feelings, right?"

"Not in the slightest," she confessed, wiping at her eyes with her fingertips. "I want him to be happy – to feel well everyday and to want to come home to me. And I – I'm not sure how to explain it, but I want…"

"Him to want you?"

Elizabeth's eyes widened at her words. She wasn't sure why she was so surprised that Nadine seemed to understand everything she was saying. After all, she'd been the person Elizabeth had wanted to go to from the moment these feelings started. "Is that so bad?"

"No, it's not," she laughed softly, not at Elizabeth, but in a way to let her know she'd been there too. "I can only speak from my own experience, but Johnny – he may act differently, but he was afraid of coming too close when we were first married. He didn't want to frighten me or hurt me in anyway, and he was too stupid to realize that being distant was doing just that."

"So, what did you do?" she asked, hoping that whatever Nadine had done for her husband could apply to Jason.

"I took my aunt, Rayleen's advice," she replied, giving her a devious smile. "When all else fails, seduce your husband."

After spending the morning and afternoon with Johnny, failing to get Sonny Corinthos to speak to either of them, Jason decided that a stop at a pub was necessary. Not only would it relax his frustrations, but hopefully it would stifle the need to go find Elizabeth and finish what they'd started the evening before.

He could have strangled Spinelli for bursting into the study all because he'd heard some strange sound. If the man had any sense, he would have known it was the sound of a very pleased woman. Just as he should have known that herthe tear-filled eyes and red cheeks of her as she left the study wereas the resultface of someone very displeasedupset.

Jason was torn between whether or not stopping was the right thing to dogood or bad; the sane part of him pointing out that Elizabeth was still very much Jeffrey Webber's daughter, meaning he couldn't take her to bed just to take her to bed. It was supposed to mean something, right? Or at least he imagined it would for her. And then there was the other part of him that wanteding nothing more than to march home, toss up her skirts, and take what was his. She was his wife, therefore none of this should have come as a surprise, but being quick and hurried would only ruin the fun of drawing out the pleasure.

Damn her for getting inside him in the worst possible way.

"I'll take another," he called out to the barmaid, polishing off the last bit of his…eight or ninth glass of alebeer. Maybe more. He'd lost count amidst his desperation to forget.

"You may want to slow down," Johnny murmured, slowly sipping on his second or third. Marriage had really ruined his best friend in _every_ possible way. "At this rate, you'll never make it home." He arched an eyebrow and shifted on his barstool, giving him a knowing grin. "Or perhaps that's the point."

"Shut your mouth," he hissed, snatching his beedrinkr from the barmaid as she hurried past. "You think you know everything because you married-"

"The best damn woman in all of London," he interrupted, flashing a smirk. "I can't figure out why you're so upset because Elizabeth has the potential to be second best, but you're too stupid to see it."

"This isn't about Elizabeth," he snarled, wiping his mouth after taking a swig from his glassbeer. "I came to London for one reason, and it's starting to seem impossible, especially with that damn woman always getting in the way."

"You would care less if you didn't like her so much," Johnny commented, tapping a finger on the side of his glass.

"I can't stand her. She's always there and teasing me and practically begging me to take her, but…" His voice trailed off and he shook his head in frustration. "I'm drunk."

"That you are," he laughed, clapping Jason hard on the back. "And a changed man because the old Jason would never stand for letting a woman tease him, and he wouldn't let her beg either."

"Oh, stop it," he muttered, scrubbing his hands over his face. "You have no idea what I'm going through. You and Nadine-"

"Were rocky in the beginning. All married couples are, especially if you marry someone as pure as Elizabeth and Nadine are. They don't know what to do with how they feel, or if what they feel is even okay, so it's up to us to help them out."

"You can't possible be suggesting that I sleep with her?"

"She's your wife, Jason," Johnny reminded him. "I should be curious as to why you _don't_ want to."

"You know this situation is very different from yours and Nadine's."

"You mean that you married Elizabeth because you tricked her into it? Nadine might argue differently. I had to pursue her for quite a while before she gave in," he laughed, lifting his beer to his mouth.

"Nadine's very different from Elizabeth. Your situation was unique. She had every reason to be afraid of you."

"Are you saying Elizabeth has no reason to be afraid of you?" Johnny asked, his eyes darkening as if Jason had offended him. "You need to look at this from her perspective, Jason. Yes, Nadine had every reason to be afraid of me, but she also trusted me. She knew I would never hurt her."

"I've done nothing-" He groaned when Johnny raised his eyebrows as if to argue to differently. "I may have been difficult in the beginning, but now…I'm no good for her. You know this as well as I do. She needs someone who can love and take care of her."

"I forget. Jason Morgan isn't capable of such intense emotion."

"Besides, once Jeffrey's situation is handled, I'm leaving. I won't let a damn woman stop me from doing what I want."

"When did you start having such a distorted view on life?" Johnny asked curiously, shoving his half-filled alebeer across the bar, signaling he was done drinking. "Contrary to what you think, your life is not solely about you."

"It's not about her either," he griped, draining his glassfinishing his beer in just a few gulps.

"I know that what happened before you left London was difficult, Jason, but you chose to leave. You found a life somewhere else, and I was under the impression that you were quite alright with how your life turned out. Only now you've come back to London, and if I may be so bold, you're seeing everything that you don't have in Italy, and you can't stand it."

Johnny slid off his stool and tossed some more money down onto the bar. "I think you're scared to admit that you want Elizabeth because she's so different from any other woman you've been with. You've never had someone give so much of themselfves to you, to really become yours, and you don't know what to do with it."

"You're right," he shrugged, shaking his head. "She's pure and innocent in every way, and I don't deserve to mark her with everything I am."

"You're just the equivalent of a wench," he joked, slapping him on the shoulder.

"Not _that_." Though Johnny did have a point. "She's standing by her father through something so difficult, and what did I do to my family?" he asked, swallowing hard. "I let them go, forced them out of my life as if they were nothing."

"Jeffrey is very different from Alan," he replied seriously, taking a deep breath. "In fact, Jeffrey was more of a father to you than that bastard ever was. The Quartermaines – the entire lot of them – except for Lila, of course – got exactly what was coming to them."

Jason nodded solemnly, but couldn't shake his guilt.

"Go home to your wife," Johnny muttered, patting him gently on the back. "Let her take care of your sorry drunken ass. And while you're at it, tell her how you feel."

He grunted, shifting his eyes to Johnny's back as his friend disappeared through the crowded pub.

Like he was really going to go home to Elizabeth all drunk and stupid and tell her things.

Elizabeth swore under her breath as she tossed a dirty pot into the sink, scolding herself for even trying to do something as silly as seduce her husband. What the hell had she been thinking? It was different for Nadine and Johnny because they actually wanted to be with one another, and she and Jason – well, they were like oil and water. It was never going to work.

"It was quite a lovely meal," Spinelli muttered behind her, his chair scratching loudly against the floor as he got up from the table, his empty plate in hand.

"Thank you," she said weakly, relieved that she hadn't ruined the meal completely, but frustrated that it was the wrong man enjoying it.

Like Carly, Nadine believed there were very specific ways to get to a man, only she'd left the booze part out of it. She did mention that Johnny liked to go out from time to time, usually when it was to discuss business, but that he'd much rather be at home having dinner and playing with the boys. After which he went to bed with her, and Elizabeth knew immediately what she meant.

"He'll be sorry that he missed it." Spinelli seat his plate in the sink, giving her a sad smile. "Perhaps you could save him a plate and-"

"It won't be good once it sets out too long," she interrupted, nodding towards the plate she'd madeset for Jason. Nadine had helped her prepare a roast with plenty of sides. Not only had it taken hours, partly because they had to send Spinelli out to get everything they needed, but she hadn't burned or undercooked a single bite. It was absolutely perfect, something Nadine was sure that Jason would appreciate, and the stupid man hadn't even come home.

"Eat it, Spinelli," she pressed, walking over and picking up the plate.

"Elizabeth-"

"It's late. He probably ate something when he was out doing whatever it wasis that was so important he couldn't come home," she interrupted, slamming the plate down on the counter.

She didn't know why she was so upset. It wasn't like Jason had to come home to her, but any other night he was there; waiting and complaining that she wasn't there to eat dinner with him. Maybe this was his way of getting back at her for all the times she locked herself in her room. Instead of holding himself up in the study, he'd taken to the streets of London.

Only God knew what he was doing.

She briefly imagined all the possibilities; the women and the pubs and what he could do when those two mixed, which made it impossible to think about anything worse. Was anything worse than having a husband who was off gallivanting with whores and liquor?

"Eat it," she repeated, grabbing the plate from the counterher head and thrusting it towards the man, who instantly backed away.

"He doesn't take well to having his food-"

"Never mind," she interrupted, lifting her eyes to the form that had darkened the doorway to the kitchen. "I see the man of the house has decided to make an appearance."

Jason grunted, folding his arms across his chest as he rolled his eyes. "Spinelli, could you excuse me and _my_ wife?."

She frowned at his tone, the way he rolled the word off his tongue like it represented some kind of ownership. She was no more his wife than he was her husband; they were simply two people – _strangers_ – forced to come to grips with a situation neither of them wanted to be in.

"Thank you again for the delicious meal," Spinelli muttered, hurrying off at Jason's command. No doubt he would leave the house soon to fulfill his latest task. She really wanted to know why the poor boy spent all his days running around London. Surely, it had nothing to do with her father.

"Always," she replied, plastering on a fake smile. She held Jason's gaze as she approached, the plate of roast still in her hand. "Hungry?"

"You cooked?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes, is that so hard to believe?" she asked, holding the plate out. He snorted, and before she even knew what was happening, she'd thrown the plate against the wall. "Dinner's served, husband."

With that, she turned around and walked back to the sink, well aware that he was right behind her. "Elizabeth, what the-"

"Oh, don't start with me! You disappear without so much as a word, and then you don't show up for a dinner that I spent hours making. At least I'm trying here, Jason. You're off doing whatever the hell you feel like without so much as even thinking about me!"

"That's not true," he huffed, stopping beside her at the sink. "You're the one who hides in your bedroom whenever you don't like what's going on and-"

"You just thought you'd follow my lead?" she interrupted, letting out a sarcastic laugh. "Who knew that Jason Morgan took cues from a woman?"

"I was working on your father's case."

"That's your excuse for everything," she spat, poking through the dirty dishes in the sink with shaky hands. "I want to get to know you…to make you happy…to just be your _friend_, but you can't do a damn thing because of my father. You're terrified that you might actually like me – and what? Will that hinder this silly investigation of yours in some-"

"That's probably what you want, isn't it? To distract me from finding out what really happened the night Lucky died," he cut in angrily, following after her when she started to stomp away again.

"Don't!" she shrieked, his hand wrapping around her arm and spinning her so that she faced him. Her entire body went stiff beneath his grasp, and she tried to kick at him, but he pressed her against the cabinets. "What do you think you're doing?"

"What's wrong with you?" he snarled, leaning over so that his mouth was close enough for her to smell the alcohol on his breath.

"You're drunk," she whispered, her lower lip quivering when she realized he had no intentions of letting her go. Her lashes fluttered closed as she took a deep breath, trying to ignore how close he was to her, and how strong and forceful he was being towards her. "Jason, let go of me."

_This wasn't right._

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he repeated, his voice lower this time, almost rougher as if he'd been pushed past the point of understanding.

"I'm not talking to you when you're like this," she said softly, shaking her head as her eyes filled with tears. "Let go of me."

"Elizabeth, you don't have to be-"

"I'm not telling you a damn thing when you're like this!"

"It's not like you're going to tell me anyway," he muttered, narrowing his glassy eyes at her face.

She sank her teeth into her lower lip as a tear slid down her cheek. This was Jason. She could trust him – she had trusted him from the beginning, and he wasn't going to hurt her, but still…He could turn on her in a second if he wanted to.

_It was just too familiar. _

"Let go!" she cried suddenly, kicking her legs against him, somehow maneuvering her arm out of his hand. He started to grab her again, but her fist flew out, catching him off guard as it collided with his face.

"Son of a bitch!" he spat, clenching his fists in front of him.

"Oh, God," she moaned, backing away slowly, one of her hands stretched out in front of her as if to keep him away. "Jason, I'm sorry...please…I didn't mean to..." She let out a low sob when she backed herself into the wall, covering her hands with her face. "Jason, please, don't…I…" Her knees gave out and she slowly slid to the floor, her legs curled beneath her as she continued to cover her face. "I'm so sorry…I…"

"Elizabeth," Jason murmured, kneeling down in front of her. "Elizabeth, it's-"

"I'm sorry," she interrupted, shaking her head as she dropped her hands to her lap, pressing her back into the wall. "I shouldn't have…" Her heart tightened in her chest, her stomach churning at what had happened – _or what could have._

"No," she hissed, jerking away when he held out his hand. "I'm…I shouldn't have...I could have hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me," he said softly, his tone gentle and patient like the man she'd gotten to know. "I should have come home. I shouldn't have gone to the pub…or grabbed-"

"It's quite alright," she argued, pushing herself up from the floor.

"Let me help-"

"No," she replied firmly, still pressed against the wall. "Please, just go…go away."

"Elizabeth…" His voice trailed off as she continued to shake her head.

She closed her eyes briefly, wanting to will this entire moment away, but all she saw was what had happened _before_. "No," she whispered, letting out another sob, and remaining frozen against the wall.

"Sir, is everything…?" Spinelli never finished his question as he stepped into the kitchen to find Elizabeth so obviously upset and Jason standing in front of her. "Sir?"

"Everything's fine," he muttered, stepping away slowly, his eyes never leaving her. "Can you…help Elizabeth…to her room, please?"

"I can go on my own," she spoke up, wiping her cheeks with the backs of her hands as she started for the doorway. She paused for a moment when she neared Jason, and then hurried past, heading straight for the stairs.

"Sir?" Spinelli asked, glancing in her direction when her door slammed upstairs. "What…?"

"I think…" Jason started, slumping his shoulders in defeat. His eyes lifted hesitantly to his assistant and confidant, who nodded understandingly. "I think she's been hurt before, and I think it was…"

"What are you going to do?" Spinelli asked timidly.

Jason shrugged, walking over to the smashed dinner plate. Kneeling down, he slowly started to clean it up, letting out a heavy sigh. "I have no idea what to do."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 11

_London, 1820…_

"You think she was raped?" Nadine asked softly, tightening her silk robe around her waist as she crossed the study to look out the window.

"Nadine!" Johnny scolded, shaking his head as he slumped over his desk. "That's an awful thing to-"

"Well, clearly Jason thinks something of the sort happened," she interrupted, glaring pointedly at her husband. "Why else would he show up at our home in the middle of the night?"

"Still, Nadine, it's just…"

"Awful," she agreed, lifting her eyes to Jason, who'd been sitting in the oversized armchair since the butler had shown him to the study.

He felt terrible for showing up in the middle of the night as he came down from a drunken stupor, but he honestly didn't know where else to go. "What do I do?" he asked quietly, tapping his fingers on the chair arms.

Johnny sighed heavily, his eyes darkening as he pinched the flame of one of the various candles lit in the room. "Jason, you don't even know-"

"What do I do?" he asked again, louder this time, his eyes staring at Nadine intently.

The petite blonde placed a hand on her husband's shoulder as if to ease his own frustrations in some way. Instantly, he relaxed, leaning back in his chair and slipping his hand over hers. He gently tugged it, and she took the hint and lowered herself onto his knee.

"Jason," she whispered, her wet cheeks shining in the candlelight, "the only thing you can do is be there. If she was...if she was raped, you can't fix it for her. You can't change what happened, and you can't make it go away."

Johnny slipped his arms around her waist, resting his cheek against her back. She closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath, and Jason knew she was reliving more of her own past than she wanted to.

"I shouldn't have come," Jason apologized, pushing himself up from the chair. "It's late, and this was entirely my fault. I grabbed her…was rude to her and…"

"It's not your fault," Nadine said, getting up from Johnny's lap and walking around the desk. "You didn't do this to her, and you can't help that the slightest touch or a simple word can take her to that place."

"I should have dealt with it on my own. I shouldn't have asked you…"

"You were there, Jason," she reminded him, reaching out to take his hand. "You know what it was like for me…but it won't be the same for her." She gently squeezed his hand before letting it go to wipe the tears from her cheeks. "I can't imagine how she feels. She was alone for months and months in that house with no one to talk to, and the entire time she's been carrying this all alone."

Jason's stomach churned at her words and the possibilities behind them. There was no doubt that Elizabeth had been attacked in some way; be it rape or a beating, and that she had tried to defend herself, which clearly led the way to Lucky's murder. She was so small, frail even, and he couldn't imagine that she had been the one to kill this man. Had Jeffrey come across this incident and reacted without thinking? Had he murdered in the name of saving his daughter?

Not that Jason blamed Jeffrey; Lucky Spencer was fortunate that he was dead or else Jason would be hunting him down instead of standing in Johnny's study.

"Do you think that's why she sent everyone away?" Jason asked, scratching his eyebrow with a shaky hand.

"Probably," she shrugged, not wanting to speak for Elizabeth completely since she didn't know what had happened. "I doubt that anyone actually knows what happened or else the police would have learned something in their investigation. A house staff hears things; every whisper through the walls and they eventually learn your secrets, so maybe she thought it was best to get rid of them before it was too late."

Jason nodded understandingly. He didn't keep a staff at his home in Italy for similar reasons. It was difficult to find people you could trust to look after your home and your wellbeing, especially when they could easily sell your secrets and truths for the right amount of money.

"This is why Lucky died, isn't it?" Johnny asked, getting up from his desk. "The only question is was it Jeffrey or Eliza-"

"Don't," Jason hissed, shaking his head firmly.

He was having plenty of thoughts on his own. The last thing he needed was for Johnny to provoke them even further. Besides, nothing mattered right now except helping Elizabeth and making whatever had happened okay for her.

"I need…I need to talk to her," he said slowly, knowing that when he returned home, her door would be shut, making it difficult.

"You need to be patient or else you'll only upset her more," Nadine warned wearily, wringing her hands as she spoke. "I can't explain it, Jason; w. What it feels like or how it haunts you, but if he did something to her…" She swallowed hard, and Johnny stepped up beside her, sliding his arm around her waist. "You can't push her to talk to you about it. You shouldn't even ask. All she needs to know is that you're there, that you aren't going to go anywhere, and that she can trust you with this."

She nibbled her lip as she curled against her husband, resting her head against his chest. "And maybe…you should get her out of that house."

"Leave London?" he asked seriously.

No wonder Jeffrey had been so persistent about getting her out of London and to a place where she could find some sort of happiness. Everything in that house had to remind her of that night. He had no idea how she'd stayed there all alone for months on end. It was enough to drive a person mad.

"Not leave, but move. I know it's the last thing you want to do, but you have the estate in the countryside, not far from here," Johnny replied, running his hand up and down his wife's back as if to soothe her own demons.

"You'd be close to us, and maybe I could talk to her," Nadine murmured, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I don't think about what happened to me often, and I have you and Johnny to thank for that. You both were so good to me; so gentle and patient after you found me, and…I think that is the only reason I got through it. When I felt like so much had been taken, you showed me that I had a life to live and that I had good friends to share it withwho would be in it."

"Elizabeth needs that," Jason agreed, taking a deep breath.

"She trusts you," she continued, giving him a weak smile. "She cares about you the best way that she knows how, and she wants to make you happy, Jason. I know that you could care less about any of that, and it's ruining your persistency to be alone, but you're married now. You have a wife who needs her husband, so you _have_ to change."

With a heavy sigh, Jason gripped the railing that lined the staircase in the foyer and slowly started upward, his heart heavy and tight in his chest. Nadine's advice had been simple; to go to Elizabeth, to be patient and kind, but after how he'd acted earlier, he doubted his wife would even want him near her. He wasn't used to biting his tongue or worrying how forceful he came off to the people around him. Most knew the type of man he was, choosing to either get out of the way or be knocked out of it, but Elizabeth was different.

She'd demanded her presence be known from the moment they met, and she'd all but refused to get out of his way when he clearly wanted her to. He should have found it admirable instead of annoying, and now because of how angry he'd gotten over her refusal to give into him about her father's case, and in general when it came to being some quiet submissive wife.

Sucking in a breath, he neared the top of the stairs, his eyes going instantly to her door. He was surprised to find it open halfway and the soft glow of a candle flickering from within her room. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet as he approached her door, and he could hear the movementsprings of her mattress as she shifted in her bed. He liked to think of the door as an invitation, a chance to reconcile, and maybe even discuss what had happened that evening.

"Elizabeth," he whispered, taken back by the slight tremor in his voice. The possibility of rejection unnerved him more than he liked to admit. "Elizabeth?"

He heard the rustlesprings of her mattress again, followed by the wrinkling of her covers. "Come…come in," she called out softly, her voice ragged.

He placed his palm against the door and eased it opened to find her still in bed, her knees curled to her chest as she sat against the headboard, her hair lying in loose, damp curls on her shoulders. His hands gripped the door and started to close it, but stopped, only to continue when she nodded to let him know it was alright.

"Are you…?" The question fell dead on his lips, not exactly sure how to ask if she was okay or what he could do or if that was even what he was supposed to do.

"Forgive me for before," she murmured, raking a hand nervously through her hair. "I know – I know you're thinking all kinds of things, making assumptions, and you should know that you're probably wrong."

"Am I?" he asked, noticing the heavy frown on her lips as he approached the side of her bed.

"I know what you think," she replied, pressing her cheek against her knee as she shifted her eyes to his. "About the murder…my father…why it happened…"

"I think – I think he – Lucky hurt you," he said slowly, nodding towards the bed. "May I?" She nodded, and he sat down hesitantly as if one wrong move would stop her from letting him in. "Did he…hurt you?"

Her face hardened, her mouth tightening as her eyes turned cold, and she dropped her gaze to her bed sheets. "Yes," she whispered, her wet cheeks glistening in the candlelight. He instantly thought of Nadine and how painful it had been for her to recall something that had happened so long ago. "But he didn't…he didn't…he tried to – to ra…"

"It's okay," Jason muttered, his hand snaking across the bed to touch her, stopping short of her when he realized that may not be what she wanted.

She dried her cheeks against her knees, sighing heavily. "I don't…I don't think I want to talk about this."

"You don't have to," he said seriously, smoothing his hand across the sheet, and fighting the urge to reach out and pull her into his arms.

She tipped her head towards him, looking at him with wide, blue eyes as if she couldn't believe he wasn't pressuring her. "But…"

"Only if you want to," he murmured, hating to see her so distraught and uncomfortable. This was worse than the night on the stairs in front of the jail. It was deeper, something he couldn't reach and promise to fix.

"I don't want…I don't want you to look at me differently," she confessed, rubbing her hands exhaustedly over her face. "My father…he was disappointed, I think – _I know_ with how things happened. Of course, no one wants to think that a man would do something so awful just as they don't want to think their daughter had any role in it either."

"This wasn't your fault, Elizabeth," Jason said, scooting across the bed so that they were inches apart.

He hated that she not only was she carrying this burden, but that she was faulting herself for what had happened. Lucky had hurt her, had at least attempted to rape her, and she was blaming herself. And there was no way in hell that Jeffrey Webber looked down on his daughter for what had happened. As his actions had proven, he loved Elizabeth more than anything and would do whatever it took to protect her.

"You don't understand," she argued, her eyes filling with tears. "I think about my father's face as reality set in, and I knoew that I failed him in someway."

"Elizabeth…"

"I just don't want you to look at me that way," she said, letting out a shaky breath. "I know you didn't ask for any of this – to marry me and my inabilities and my secrets, and I can't stand-"

"Please, don't do this," he interrupted, placing his hand over hers. "I married you, which means I married your inabilities and your secrets, and I came into this knowing they existed. What happened to you doesn't change the woman that I see or how I feel. I only wish that I could protect you…that I could change what happened…or that I'd been here to save you."

She shook her head, cradling her face in her hands. "You don't understand, Jason. You're not hearing me and what I'm saying. I shouldn't have married you or gotten you into this and-"

"Elizabeth," he cut in, pulling her hands from her face and gently cradling themit in his palms. Her skin was like warm and velvety beneath his touch. He swiped his thumbs over her cheeks as he forced her to look him in the eye. "I think you know by now that I don't do anything I'm not willing to do. If I didn't want to marry you, I wouldn't have. I could have stayed in Italy and-"

"You did this for my father."

"In the beginning, yes, but now…" He took a deep breath, not sure if he could honestly tell her how he felt, but knowingew she needed to hear it. "I didn't really know you before I came to London, and I didn't want to know you when I got here, but now…you're my wife, Elizabeth, and you – you come first."

Her eyes fluttered closed at his words, and she nuzzled his palms with her face, letting out a content sigh. "Please don't lie to make me feel better."

"I'm not," he replied, swallowing hard when her eyes snapped open and locked on hisers. "I've neglected you for your father's case."

"You're only doing what we both want," she murmured, placing her hands over his and pulling them into her lap as she stretched her legs out on her bed. "All of this is about my father, and when you arrived, I think I was so relieved because I didn't have to be alone anymore. Only you didn't want my companionship or even a mindless romance. You only wanted to free my father, and for some silly reason, part of me was angry with you for that."

So much of her confession made sense; forced into solitary confinement by both her city and herself and desperate for some kind of connection. He was just the first person to come along and not look at her and see the murder and her father's arrest, but yet he'd also failed to really see her.

There had been signs since his arrival; her nervous demeanor when she'd first met him, the way she trembled when he stepped too close, and how frustrated she was when he didn't comply with how she wanted things to be. She needed the control as much as he did; both of them desperate to ease their fears. She didn't want to submit to a man because of what happened with Lucky and her father, and he didn't want to submit to a woman because that meant admitting he'd fallen in a way he wasn't prepared for.

"I shouldn't have been so harsh with you all the time," she continued, shifting her hands so that they linked with his. "I know it probably sounds ridiculous, but I think I wanted you to want me because it made what happened less painful. It was like he took something – something that I was so sure everyone could see, but when you looked at me, I didn't feel that way. And I needed to know that someone could want me after that – after being touched and kissed by another man."

"And when you kissed me," she finished, gently squeezing his hands, "I knew that was what it was supposed to feel like, which was so terrifying and enlightening at the same time."

He swallowed hard, remembering how soft her lips felt againstto his and the comfort that came with the warmth of her mouth. It was exactly what a kiss, one that mattered and stirred a man to his core, was supposed to feel like, and it was something he'd never felt before.

"You make me nervous, Elizabeth," he admitted, shaking his head at his confession. "You're everything I've tried to avoid in my life; true beauty and grace, so pure and angelic. This marriage was my way of forcing you to submit. I didn't want a life-long commitment or a wife that was the center of my world, and honestly, I'm still not sure if I do."

She stirred slightly at his words, giving him a faint smile as if she understood and wasn't even surprised by his honesty.

"But I do know that what happened with you – what he did – whatever it was when he touched you and kissed you," he continued, swallowing hard, "it didn't take anything away from the woman you are, Elizabeth. It didn't make you less of a woman or less pure in any way, and only a fool would have the nerve to think something like that."

"I just want to feel whole again," she said, shifting against the headboard, her hands tightening around his. "I want to feel safe and not have to worry about what will happen tomorrow. I'm exhausted with my life, Jason. I don't want to have any of it anymore."

She reminded him so much of Nadine; her lack of will and desire to fight, and that made him all the more determined to convince her to hold on.

"What if we left?" he asked seriously.

"London?" she asked confused.

"I have an estate in the countryside. It's not far from Johnny and Nadine, but if you want to leave London, we can," he replied, not caring where they went. He just wanted this to go away.

"My father's case," she reminded him, nodding slowly as if to convince herself that this was the right thing to do. "But the countryside…I'm sure it's beautiful."

"I haven't been there in years," he shrugged, giving her a smile.

"I always loved it when I was a child. My grandmother lived outside the city, and I would spend the summers there," she replied, her tension easing away into nothing. He could practically feel it rolling off her body and turning into something else – _excitement_ over the possibility of tomorrow.

"We could leave soon – a couple of days or tomorrow even," he urged, knowing from the way her eyes lit up that Nadine was right – getting Elizabeth out of this house was for the best.

She chewed her lip, her hands clutching his tightly as she closed her eyes. He could practically see her making a list as to why this was alright and why it wasn't. "I…I would like to go," she agreed, forcing a tiny grin at him. "I think it would be nice to get away…if only for a while."

"I'll have the arrangements started immediately," he said, loosening his hands from hers to smooth the blanket out over her. "Will you be able to get some rest now?"

She nodded apprehensively, fisting the covers in her palms. "Do you…do you think you could stay?" she asked, shifting uncomfortably as she lowered herself beneath the blankets. "Just until I fall asleep?"

"Of course," he replied, suddenly feeling nervous when she scooted across the bed, offering him the space beside her.

Standing up, he shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the bedpost before sitting down beside her and settling against the headboard. She slid closer, stopping when she neared his arm, and it was only when he slid it around her that she curled into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. Her damp hair tickled his chin, and he couldn't help but nuzzle against her curls, taking in her sweet smell.

"I'm sorry about my hair," she muttered, gently placing her hand on his chest. "I thought a bath...would relax me."

"I don't mind," he replied, smoothing his hand down her back. "Smells nice."

"Thank you for understanding, Jason," she whispered, closing her eyes. "For understanding _everything_."

"Just get some rest," he sighed, knowing there was still so much he'd yet to find out, but that nothing mattered more than _this_. "You don't have to worry anymore."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

_London, 1820…_

Several mornings later, Elizabeth came down the stairs, Carly in tow, to find Jason giving orders to a few men in the foyer. She glanced nervously at the blonde, who'd been rather disgusted by this entire situation, especially when Elizabeth confessed they were getting out of the city for a little while. Carly had always been controlling, probably because she was used to getting her way, and she couldn't stand the idea that Elizabeth had done something without her. She supposed this was her own fault for depending on the woman so much.

"My wife will instruct you on what to pack and what to leave behind. If you have any questions, take them to her," Jason said, lifting his eyes to the stairs and giving her a warm smile. "Elizabeth."

She returned his grin, her heart tightening in her chest as she finished walking down the stairs to where he was waiting at the bottom. She couldn't get over how much he'd changed in the last few days, and while she knew it was solely because of what happened to her, she tried to tell herself he'd get over the need to treat her so delicately. He'd all but changed completely; bringing breakfast to her room and waiting to actually give it to her if she didn't come down to the kitchen, or actually talking with her about her life instead of at her, and her favorite was dinner time, whenre he showed her more in the kitchen. She'd yet to cook him another meal like she had several nights ago, but she imagined that would be the first thing she'd do at their new home.

"What is there to pack, really?" she asked, her hand resting on the banister as she reached the landing. "We _are_ coming back."

"We are," he agreed, glancing nervously at Carly, "but I'm sure therey are some things you'd like to take with you – for comfort."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," she nodded, wondering if there was anything he hadn't thought about.

She appreciated his efforts to comfort her and take care of her, but she had to admit they were rather exhausting. It wasn't that she minded being doted on; it was the way he looked at her when he did it. She didn't want him to see her as some weak and frivolous woman, completely incapable and inept because of something that had happened months prior. Yes, she would carry it with her and it had left it'sher mark, but she was trying to get past it, and they never would if it was all Jason could think about.

She'd have to talk to Nadine about this. She seemed to be the only woman around here with any sense about her. Carly would blame Jason, had practically accused him of taking her away, so that option was non-existent.

"When are we leaving?" she asked, looking over the men who were waiting on their orders.

"Tomorrow, if possible," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "It would have been sooner, but I had to wait on Spinelli to handle some things. We should be at the estate by late afternoon tomorrow, as long as you're alright with that."

"Sounds lovely," Elizabeth said, turning her head towards Carly. "I suppose this is it for us – at least until I get back."

"I assume you'll have a staff," the blonde murmured, narrowing her gaze at Jason.

For the life of her, Elizabeth couldn't figure out why Carly was so rude to her husband or why she acted as if he were some terrible man. She'd tried to ask, but her friend had only told her she was acting off her intuition, and when Elizabeth pried further, Carly clammed up, and she almost wondered if she knew him from the past. Maybe he and Carly had…No, she refused to think of such a situation. Though it would explain why the blonde was so scorned and Jason was so agitated by her presence.

"We'll have a small staff, mostly because I don't like people sticking their nose in my business," he replied, clearly attempting to get Carly to back off. "I'm aware that Elizabeth may need someone to help her dress and that it wouldn't hurt to have a servant or two on hand, but…" He shifted his eyes to Elizabeth, giving her a sneaky grin. "Things will be far more relaxed on the estate, which is what I think we both need for a little while."

Jason leaned against the mantle in the study, a fond smile on his face as he looked around the room. Part of him had enjoyed being back in Jeffrey's home, while the other hated to deal with the stark reminder of the way things used to be. When he'd returned to London, he hadn't expected so much to come rushing back, and like Elizabeth, he needed to get away from the city too, though his reasons were not nearly as dire.

He was still worried about her, but he was trying not to smother her in his efforts to comfort her. Just like she'd asked, he stayed with her until she'd fallen asleep that night, and unwrapped his arms from around her and hurried off to his own room. Being close to her was difficult for him because he wanted something more and after what she'd been through, he didn't want her to feel like he was pushing her.

It was rather nice to be on the same page; to have some sort of understanding as husband and wife, and while he had no idea as to where this marriage of theirs was going, he liked the idea of taking things slow and seeing how they turned out. He fought against the desire to settle and be happy, becoming much like his best friends, and the need to be free to do as he pleased without having to report to anyone.

After all, his annoyance with the entire idea of marriage was what drove him to get stupidly drunk, come home, and pick a fight with his wife. He was bucking against everything Johnny and Nadine told him to do, refusing to do more than what he'd come to London for. He was here to free Jeffrey and that was what he intended until Elizabeth had complicated hisother plans.

What started as a game, a way to annoy her and have some fun of his own, was now very real. Elizabeth had been through something horrible, and he wanted to save her, and maybe in the process she would save him from himself.

Though he pitied her for even wanting to try.

"Jason?" came her voice, followed by a fist knocking gently on the half- opened door, a curious smile spread over her plump lips. "Are you sad about leaving too?"

He shrugged, lowering himself to the edge of the desk as he met her eye. "I always loved this home."

"We'll be coming back," she said, just as she had repeatedly in the past few days.

He hadn't admitted aloud that he hoped to get her away and show her the beauty that lay lied elsewhere, stifling any need sheto felt to return.

"Is everything packed?" he asked, brushing her statement off.

"Yes," she nodded, closing the door behind her before walking over to him. "Don't worry. I didn't pack that offending vase in the foyer." His lips twitched into a smile. "Oh yes, I've seen you glaring at it from time to time."

"The colors are terrible," he confessed, amused that she'd noticed such a thing.

"It was my mother's," she said, causing his face to grow flushed. "No worries, Jason. I'm merely teasing."

"You mean it wasn't?" he asked nervously, and she shook her head. "Not funny."

"A little funny," she replied, easing herself onto the desk beside him. She smoothed her hands over her dress, her dark blue eyes finding his. "Why does my home mean so much to you?" She swallowed hard, unnerved by her own boldness. "How do you know my father? I can – I can feel there's a history there."

"It isn't important," he said firmly, surprised by his tone, but it didn't upset her. "He was good to me when I needed someone to be…other than that, it stays dead."

Her lips parted to pry further, but she covered her mouth with her hand and nodded. "Everyone has things they'd rather not discuss about their past," she agreed, dropping her eyes to her lap. "I…I was wondering – would you like to see Sonny before we left? I know that you've distanced yourself from the case for me, but I didn't want you to think…"

"Sonny has been handled," he shrugged, his arm brushing against hers. He wasn't going to give her too many details about the exchange, but it cost him more than it should have, as well as a deal that only a man loyal to Jeffrey would strike. "Johnny coaxed him into talking-"

"What did he say?" she interrupted, her eyes growing wide.

"More of what we already knew," Jason replied, getting up from the desk when their arms brushed again. She looked at him expectantly, and he sighed heavily before going into the story. "Sonny said he came into the study and found Jeffrey standing over Lucas with a knife."

"Oh," she whispered, fisting her hands nervously in her dress. "Did you tell him we're moving to the countryside?"

"Johnny did," he nodded, curious about her reaction. "Sonny was surprised that you chose to go tostay in Italy over London."

"I couldn't imagine leaving London or my home, but now I am doing both," she contemplated sadly.

"Why Italy?" he pried, and her eyes licame aliveghting up at the question.

"I used to sketch a lot," she replied slowly. "I started when I was a child – just copying my father's sketches of the body and bone structure. By the time I was a teenager, he had started referringred to mine over his own because they were so detailed. He used to say I saw things in normal lighting that no else did, and I can remember him telling me that the light in Italy is different from anywhere else in the world." She lifted her eyes to Jason and raised her eyebrows. "…Is it – is the light different there?"

"I don't know," he murmured, having never really thought about it. He smirked, sneaking a glance at her from the corner of his eye. "Though I doubt it would do you any justice."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

_London, 1820…_

"What are you doing?" Elizabeth asked, bracing herself against the doorway to her father's study as she watched Spinelli. He looked up from the drawers of patient files he was tossing into boxes, his gaze drifting over to the roaring fire. "What the hell are you doing?"

The young man remained stiff, his hands tightening over the box of files as she rushed over, following his gaze once again to the fire. "You're burning – you're burning everything!" she cried, shoving him away. "What are you thinking? This is – this is my father's livelihood – his records, his research – what the hell are you doing?"

"Fair Elizabeth, I was merely-"

"Making a mockery of everything my father ever worked for!" she interrupted, letting the box fall to the floor as she turned her attention to the fire, taking in the stack of crackling papers as they burned. "Who gave you the authority to do such a thing?"

"I did," came Jason's voice from the doorway. He shifted his eyes to Spinelli's, dismissing his assistant with a single gaze.

"Why would you do this?" she cried, dropping to her knees in front of the fire. Her hands sprung out without thinking, but she pulled them away the second she felt the heat. "This is everything he ever worked for."

"We can't leave things like this in the house," he replied, kneeling down beside her and placing a hand on her shoulder. "You know that the police confiscated some of his records already, and with us gone – well, what's to stop someone from breaking in?"

"So, you're just going to burn it all?" she asked, jerking away from his touch as she rushed to her feet, and hurried over to the desk. She pulled open several drawers, letting out a gasp when she saw they were empty. "How could you do something like this without telling me?"

"I didn't think of it until this morning, and you were upstairs packing. I didn't think-"

"Exactly, you didn't think," she hissed, tugging a drawer from the desk and flinging it at him. "You never think to tell me things. I suppose I should be honored that you actually asked me about moving and didn't pack up and toss me over your shoulder." She arched an eyebrow as she came around the desk. "After all, that was your original intention, right? To throw me over your shoulder and take me away against my will?"

"I haven't done anything against your will," he spat, his face darkening.

"You would have," she pointed out, her eyes roaming over the bookshelves to the other boxes around the room. "Where are his books? His notes – his – this was _everything_ to him, Jason." She started behind the desk again and leaned over to open the bottom drawer, which was as bare as everything else. "My – my…" Tears stung her eyes as she slammed the drawer, lifting her eyes to his. "Did you bother to look at what you were burning, Jason? Or did you just tell your assistant that none of it matters anymore and to toss it aside?"

"Elizabeth, I packed the books and several of his notebooks-"

"Probably all the wrong things," she cut in, clenching her fists at her sides. "You should have asked me to help. What else are you throwing out? We're coming back – we're…" She lifted a hand to her mouth as she hurried from the study, turning into the first room she came too. "You've packed everything…"

"Elizabeth, we can't leave things lying around. You had enough problems with people trying to run you out of town before I came here. The very moment they know you're gone, they'll swarm this place – looking for evidence, clues, gossip, and I-"

"Are we coming back?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest and refusing to allow herself to cry. Her lower lip trembled as she tightened her jaw, her lashes fluttering closed. "We're not coming back, are we?"

"Honestly?" he asked, reaching out to touch her, but she jerked away.

"It would do you some good to give me a bit of honesty seeing as you're my damned husband!" she replied, cradling her face in heryour hands. "Did you think you could just take me away and I'd never want-"

"I was hoping you'd like it enough in the country to stay there," he interrupted, refusing to allow her to get started on a list of assumptions. "I was hoping the new home would be better for you – that you could let go of what happened here, and-"

"I will never let go of what happened here," she cut in, her eyes rimming with tears. She sniffled, blinking them back, having already allowed him to see her in one too many weak moments. "And as awful as that night was – it doesn't define my home for me. This is where I grew up, where I lived with my father, and those memories will never be touched by that awful night. I won't allow it."

Her eyes softened briefly. "What happened to you?" she asked, frowning heavily. "What happened that was so horrible that you feel like you have tocan run away from everything?"

"Elizabeth, this isn't about me," he answered, looking away. "I thought getting away would help you."

"Oh, yes, taking me away from everything I've ever known will surely save me," she murmured sarcastically, shoving her tender moment of worry for him aside. His lips parted, but she held her hand up, refusing to give him another chance to lie to her. "I don't understand you, Jason. Don't you have a place that is always safe? That's not filled with dreadful memories – and even if it is, there's always some good that exists?."

"This was _my_ place," she shrugged, knowing that fighting him was completely hopeless. "The good that existed here was what kept me going." She hung her head and started for the stairs, stopping at the bottom to look at him. "Clearly, you want me to be some poor, submissive little wife that goes along with everything you do, so you win. I'm tired of fighting."

She was driving him damn crazy, and he knew that she knew she was doing this, which was the most frustrating part of all. When Spinelli went up to tell her their carriage was waiting, Jason couldn't believe the way she'd sauntered down the stairs and gave him a weary smile, muttering about how heavy her bags were and how her husband had left a feeble woman to fend for herself. This was conveniently after the help, who'd loaded the rest of their things, had already left, leaving Jason with the task of carrying her bags, which were unusually heavy.

He didn't bother to complain. Not even when he held her hand and helped his feeble wife into the carriage and she asked him if he'd treated her rock collection with great care, did he complain. He was too busy trying to figure out if her bags were filled with rocks and where in the hell she'd gotten so many on such short notice. Before he could even ask, she started complaining about the warmth inside the small space, suggesting that he breathe as little as possible.

Since then, she'd been completely quiet, the only sound was the wheels of the carriage as it rolled on and the occasional flutter of the fan she clutched in her hand. It wasn't that Jason didn't appreciate the silence – hell, he'd been waiting for her to stop talking since the first night they'd met -, but it was ear piecing, maddening, even.

"Sir?" came the driver's voice as the carriage rolled to a stop.

"Yes?" he gripped, not wanting the trip to take longer than necessaryit had to.

"I think there's a problem with a wheel. I'm going to take a look, so maybe you and your wife would like to stretch your legs."

"Just fix the damn wheel," he hissed, holding a hand over his eyes.

"Headache, darling?" Elizabeth asked sweetly, tipping her head in his direction as she fanned herself.

He grunted, pushing the door open and sliding out of the carriage. "I think some fresh air could do us both some good," he muttered, leaving the door open as he walked away.

"Well, how do you suppose I'll get out of here?" she called after him, pressing a hand to her chest.

"Fall," he smirked, kicking the dirt beneath his feet on the road as he started for the field next to it. He was half tempted to walk the next couple of miles to the house, leaving her to play the ideal wife all by her lonesome.

"Why thank you," he heard her cooing behind him, purring to the driver about how her husband wasn't feeling well.

He hung his head when he heard the tall grass rustling behind him as Elizabeth swore quietly to herself, flashing him a wide grin as she stepped up beside him. "Your head feel better?" she asked, placing a hand on his arm as she liftedleft the other to his forehead. "You do feel warm. I told you not to breathe so much and use up all the air, but that is just like a silly man."

"So much for being submissive," he clucked, jerking his head away from her and continuing to walk, still debating on whether or not he would get back in the carriage.

"So much for being the kind of husband my father dreamt of," she spat, gripping her dress in one hand, her fan in the other, as she followed after him. "Or is that what you do? You sell people on some idealistic image of you for some personal gain. Money? Fame? I do believe Jason Morgan has enough of that on his own, though, and something tells me he's too proud to take another man's-"

"What the hell is the matter with you?" he barked, turning around to face her, his hands on his hips.

"You know what is wrong!" she cried, looking over her shoulder to make sure the driver didn't hear them. "You don't know show up on a stranger's doorstep and all but demand entrance! You don't trick a girl into marrying you by using her father! You don't threaten to throw a woman over your shoulder to manipulate her into doing what you want! And you don't pack up her house without telling her first! Not to mention burning everything that's important to her!"

He narrowed his eyes, no longer caring about how angry he made her. He'd make her so mad she wouldn't let him back in the carriage. "Elizabeth, darling, I already did all of that."

Her face hardened instantly, and he turned away, starting across the field, leaving her behind him. "Oh, you!" she shrieked, breaking into a sprint as she drew her hand over her shoulder and flung the fan through the air, gasping when it collided with the back of his head.

"Son of a bitch!" he snarled, spinning around on his feet, not surprised that she had resorted to some kind of physical payback. Her eyes widened, and he reminded himself not to lose it – at least not completely. "I didn't burn everything."

"You did. The drawers were empty. Everything I ever-"

"You honestly think I'm completely heartless, don't you?" he asked, tearing past her as he headed for the carriage.

"Well, when was the last time you acted decently?" she asked, starting to go after her fan, but chasing ed after Jason instead. "You just do all these things without asking me, and it – what are you doing?" She stopped outside of the carriage, glancing briefly at the driver who was working on the wheel as Jason dug through the back of it, swearing loudly. "Jason, this is what I'm-"

"Here," he groaned, tugging a box from the back of it. "I didn't burn _everything_."

"What?" she asked, dropping to her knees beside him, paying no attention to the fact that she was on a dirt road. She gasped as she pulled out several of her father's notebooks, a bound book, and a box of letters that Jason had come across belonging to her mother and father. "You…"

"I didn't burn everything," he repeated, hoping this was what she'd been worrying about this whole damned time.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, pulling the bound book into her lap and opening the cover.

"It's difficult when you never stop-"

"Did you do this?" she asked, holding the book of her sketches up, a tiny smile on her face. "Did you bind my sketches?"

"I found them," he shrugged, annoyed that one smile made his fury disappear in an instant. "I thought you'd like them all together."

"Why didn't you just-"

"I was going to give everything to you at the new house," he interrupted, glaring at the driver who seemed all too interested in their conversation. He nodded at Jason, turning briefly to the wheel before moving to his feet, silently letting him know that all was fixed. Now, if he could just fix things with Elizabeth. "It was a gift of sorts."

"I thought Spinelli burned them," she murmured, flipping through the pages and tracing various bones with her fingertips. "I thought everything was…" She stood up, dusting her knees off, her lips pulled into a tight frown. "This doesn't mean that you're not wrong, Jason. You still lied and tricked me, and you – you can't expect to pull things from boxes every time you upset me."

"If you didn't get ahead of yourself, I wouldn't have to put them in boxes in the first place," he pointed out, causing her to scowl. She turned away and climbed back into the carriage, slamming the door closed behind her. Shaking his head, he picked up the box, placing it back where he'd pulled it from, before jerking the door open and climbing back in beside her. "You're welcome."

"I didn't thank you," she hissed, slumpinged over the book as she flipped through the pages. She shifted uncomfortably, leaning back as she closed the book and slowly lifted her eyes to his. "You should have told me."

"You were so upset this morning. I didn't even think about it, but I had already packed-"

"Not about the book or the letters – about leaving," she sighed, her eyes softening as she cradled the book to her chest. "It was my home, and now it's not anymore. You didn't give me any time to even think about that." She sighed again, resting her forehead against the side of the carriage. "I doubt it's even you I'm mad at. I think I knew – I knew from the first night you came that somehow you'd get me to leave-"

"I wasn't trying to trick you," he argued gently, scooting over enough to close what little space there was between them. "I had no intentions of leaving the city after your father approved of us staying, but then you…I believe that getting you away will help. You can be as strong-willed and determined as you want, but what happened – you need to deal-"

"You should have told me," she interrupted, her eyes fluttering closed. "You're so good at talking _to_ me, Jason, but when you talk _at_ me – it's – it's infuriating."

"When you're upset, talking at you is the only way-"

"Don't try to be funny," she murmured, her plump lips giving a hint of a smile as the driver finally climbed back ointo the carriage.

"I don't think I've ever been called funny before," he commented, as she shifted beside him, sliding her arm through his.

"I can't say I'm surprised that your attempts have fallen flat in the past," she teased, resting her head against his arm as she tapped her other hand against the book. He was too caught up in how it felt havingto have her body next to his to actually give a damn that she'd just insulted him.

Beautiful women – they really could get away with anything.

"You should have told me," she repeated, tightening her hold on him.

"I apologize," he murmured sincerely, relieved when the carriage finally started to roll again.

"Me too," she whispered, pressing her face against his arm as she smiled. "For the fan…and the rocks."

"And your dreadful assumptions," he offered, and she clucked her tongue.

"Such assumptions wouldn't be necessary if – oh, forget it," she shrugged, wiggling beside him as she yawned. "You win again."

"Yes," he murmured, dropping his head so that his nose lingered over the top of her pinned curls. He closed his eyes as he breathed her in, enjoying the silence of them being together. "I win."

Elizabeth yawned, curling on her side, vaguely aware of the fact that she was being carried. She breathed in deeply, taking in the musky scent of a man, and worrying what would happen if she opened her eyes.

After all, it was a brief moment of vulnerability as the carriage came to a halt, Elizabeth half asleep against Jason's side. The ride couldn't have taken much longer after they'd stopped, but she'd managed to drift off to sleep anyway. Using Jason as a pillow was much easier than fighting with him, and just as she was about to sit up, he swept her into his arms and eased her out of the carriage.

She couldn't refrain from curling against him and burying her face in the crook of his neck as he started up what she assumed was stairs. She was too afraid to open her eyes, for him to know that she knew what he was doing, out of fear that he'd drop her to her feet and demand she walk.

"Elizabeth," he murmured, his cheek brushing against her forehead as he eased her from his arms and onto the bed. "Elizabeth?"

"Mmmm," she groaned, her eyes fluttering open as she smiled.

"We're here," he whispered, shoving a few stray curls from her face. "Finish your nap. I'll leave your bags in the hallway."

"You make it impossible to be angry with you," she sighed, rolling onto her side as he drew a blanket over her and tucked it in at her sides.

"Well, I'm sure you'll find a reason by dinner," he replied, swiping his fingertips over the side of her face. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Thank you," she said, her voice shaky as she tightened the blanket around herself. "For – for taking me away." She felt confused, hated that he made her feel this way, and wasn't sure how to explain what she felt. "I think I was afraid to leave because it was…"

"Your home, your safe place," he filled in, his fingers lingering on her chin. "I understand."

"It doesn't scare me," she confessed quietly, wanting him to understand how she felt, but not sure if she was ready for that – or if he was either. "It sneaks up on me, I think. And aside from a few nightmares, – it's not as haunting as you think." She shrugged, closing her eyes as she pressed her face into the pillow. "Or maybe I'm good at pretending. I lie to myself about a lot of things."

"You don't have to lie to me," he murmured softly, and she couldn't help but smile.

"Oh, Jason," she replied, yawning as she closed her eyes. "If only it were that simple."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

_London, 1820…_

"Overwhelmed?" Jason asked, tipping his head towards Elizabeth as they stepped into the third study of the house, which was clearly the one that he intended to use.

She nodded wearily, still trying to sort out which part of the house her room resided in and how close she was to Jason just in case she managed to get lost. It was somewhere between the second and ninth bedroom, just beyond the second study, and…_she had no idea a home could be this big. _

He told her the room she'd been given was nothing more than a guest room, saying it as if he refused to let her sleep where someone else had. It was strange to see the bitterness in his eyes as they walked through the house, and she was wondering what kind of horrors had existed, and also if they mirrored hers in any way.

"You grew up here?" she asked, smiling as her eyes roamed over the books lining the shelves – the books he'd brought from her father's study.

She'd noticed traces of her home in the city all throughout the house; he'd even packed the vase in the foyer and set it in the very same place here. It was a thoughtful way to comfort her and she wasn't surprised that he'd done it without telling her. He would see it as nothing when, in fact, it was everything, and she wished he could see how much all of this meant to her.

"Yes," he grimaced, dropping his eyes to the floor.

Her eyes widened as she crossed the room to the large window behind his desk and folded her arms over her middle. She almost felt guilty that they were here. "It wasn't happy?" she asked, knowing she had no business doing so.

"It was…complicated," he answered quietly, and she decided not to pry any further.

"The garden…it's lovely," she murmured, her eyes takingen in the array of colors that blossomed before her. They were so vivid and lively, practically beckoning for attention.

"My grandmother's roses," he replied in a small voice, stepping up beside her. "I'll always remember her and her rose garden more than anything."

"You've never talked about your family until today," she commented, feeling rude the second she said it. "I mean – I suppose everyone has family, but-"

"It was complicated," he repeated, his eyes sweeping over the garden, his lips torn between a smile and a frown. "My family and I – we were very different from you and your father…fights, anger, resentment – lots of emotions that…" He sighed, hanging his head. "I'd rather not-"

"Of course," she interrupted, unable to stop herself from sliding her arm through his and wrapping her hand around his wrist. She meant the touch to be comforting, but he stiffened, even started to pull away. "Jason, it's al-"

"There's maybe an hour or so left of the sun," he cut in, brushing past her apology as he turned to look at her. "I'll show you the gardens tomorrow. Maybe you'd like to sketch there…or something."

"Oh, I don't have-"

"I've taken care of that," he shrugged.

"Is there anything you haven't taken care of?" she asked, resting her head on his arm as she continued to hold onto him.

His body relaxed and he lifted a hand and started to place it over hers, but dropped it back to his side. "I haven't taken care of a lot of things," he confessed, swallowing hard. "But I'm trying."

She smiled against his arm as she pressed her face into it. "Sometimes that's all you can do, Jason," she sighed sadly. "You have to let that be enough."

"I think you've spent too much time with Nadine," he murmured, shaking his head. "All this newfound wisdom and-"

"It's not newfound…at least not all of it," she argued, pulling her head back to look at him. "I just don't think you like it when someone is smarter than you."

He laughed softly, his lips breaking into a wide grin that Elizabeth desperately wanted to see more of. "I don't like those who pretend to be smart," he teased, causing her to swat him on the arm.

"You are an awful man, Jason Morgan," she said, trying to hide her own amusement.

"And so are you," he replied pointedly, flashing a wicked smileart, "_Mrs_. Morgan."

"Well – well…you – oh, you've won again," she stammered, too flustered with just how _lovely_ those two words sounded together to think a single, coherent thought.

"Are you ready?" Jason asked, gently knocking on Elizabeth's opened bedroom door. She glanced up from the bed, where she was digging through the box of art supplies he'd given her the night before. It'd been too dark for her to have a look, and she'd spent the better half of the morning pouring through them.

"Ready?" she asked, placing paintbrushes and bottles of paint back into the box before getting up from the bed.

"I promised I'd show you the gardens today," he reminded her, trying to ignore how his heart swelled when she grinned and headed over to him.

"You tend to change your mind so much," she teased, causing him to roll his eyes.

"You don't have to make everything so difficult," he murmured, holding his arm out so she could slide hers through.

"I thought you liked your women difficult," she replied, arching an eyebrow at him. "Or it may have been easy-"

"And you consider yourself a lady," he laughed, relieved that she'd become so at ease in just the first night in this home.

Nadine had been right; getting her away, removing her from what had happened, helped, in more ways than he imagined. She'd actually gotten out of bed early that morning, beating Jason to the breakfast table, and they'd managed to avoid the topic of her father's case as they talked. It wasn't intentional; it was just that they'd found other things to talk about.

Mostly her sketches and the supplies he'd given her, which led into an extremely amusing conversation about how Jason Morgan could change the world over night. He tried to explain that he knew a lot of people, which prompted several comments about how he knew these people, and he sometimes wondered if she enjoyed getting under his skin more than anything.

He was thankful she was being so lighthearted about all of this. After the fit she'd thrown yesterday, he was worried she'd be as miserable here and they'd have no choice but to go back to the city. Sure, being in this home that was filled withof reminders of his parents and the way things had ended between them was extremely difficult, but it was worth the sacrifice. He'd had the time to set up the house and buy her plenty of nice gifts, but there wasn't enough to buy, furnish, and move into a completely new home.

Besides, this house was all but perfect; overly big, but just a short ride to Johnny and Nadine's, and there would be no curious gawkers or worry of people moseying around for gossip. It was secluded in a way that would allow them to make it their own, and Elizabeth needed somewherething new to start over.

"You're quiet," she murmured, leaning against him as they started down the stairs and in the direction of the lavish terrace.

Everything about this house was over-the-top in a way that disgusted him, and it was just a reminder of how leaving London for Italy had been the right choice. This place would have swallowed him whole and made him one of them, or it could have left him just as alone as he was now.

"Not one to enjoy the silence?" he asked, nodding politely to a servant who pushed the door open as they approached.

"I'm getting used to it," she replied, looking curiously at the servant as they passed.

"There isn't much staff," he said, answering her thoughts before she asked them, "but a small one is required. There is a cook, a servant or two, a couple of gardeners, and a maid who will come in the mornings. If you need help getting dressed or-"

"Well, it's mostly us here," she cut in, tightening her hold on his arm as they started across the yard. "I don't require such complicated dressing, which is quite nice if I may say so."

"You look beautiful either way," he heard himself saying, the words flying from the tip of his tongue before he could stop them.

A deep blush rose over her cheeks and she looked away. "You have to stop being so nice to me, Jason. I'm never sure how to take it." He furrowed his brow, confused as to what she meant. "Are you nice for the sake of being nice? Or because you want to be?"

"I think I've made it very clear that I only do what I like," he replied, steering her down the path that led to the lavish, rose-covered archways.

"But it's either all at once or not at all, and I…" She trailed off, her head turning to take in the array of colors from the roses.

His grandmother, Lila, prided herself on her garden, and she tended to it as carefully as she had Jason, seeing each one as an individual beauty, and never complaining if they bloomed too early, late, or not at all. She was the most patient woman he'd ever known, and if he missed anyone – regretted leaving anyone upon going to Italy -; it was her.

"Like that," she murmured, pulling her arm from his so she could lean down and sniff one of the roses.

He had _no_ idea what the hell she was talking about.

"One evening I'm telling you how I feel, these things I don't understand, and you're all but stripping my clothes off and pressing me against a bookshelf-"

"It did not happen like that," he hissed embarrassingly, hating to think that he would have ravished her without so much as a second thought that night. He had no idea what she'd been through, and he'd all but forced himself on her.

"And I tell you a secret – or rather, you figure it out on your own, and now every time I touch you, you want to pull away," she continued, her finger tracing the delicate curve of a deep red bloom. "Sometimes I'm confused as to whether this is a real marriage…or if it's going to remain one of convenience until you get away."

"I told you-"

"I know," she interrupted, hesitant to lift her eyes to his. "But at least for the time being…it could be real."

"I won't hurt you for the sake of some emotion you don't understand," he replied, shaking his head firmly.

"What makes you think I don't understand what I feel _now_?" she inquired, chewing her lip.

"You don't-"

"I think about things still, only it's different now. Your mouth. Your hands. The way they felt, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do with any of it-"

"Which is precisely why I haven't done anything, Elizabeth. What you went through – a lot of what you want-"

"Unless you don't want to do anything with it, which is quite fine-"

"I never said that either," he hissed, frustrated with his own confusion.

"I won't hold it against you, but I need to know what you expect from me."

"We've talked about this-"

"No, I all but said that I wanted you and-"

"You never said it like that."

"I didn't _not_ say it like that either, Jason. There's more on that list of don'ts, but you didn't let me finish that yesterday either. Big surprise!" she cried, gripping her dress in her hands as she turned and stalked down the path. "You don't kiss a woman like she's the last one alive and-"

"You're enough to force the sanest man into madness," he scowled, gently grabbing her arm and spinning her around to face him.

"You require that I act this way with all your wishy-washy-"

He muffled her words as he moved hurriedly to cup her face and press their lips together, letting out a low groan the very moment their mouths met. It had been all he thought about late at night; the softness of her lips, the velvety warmth of her mouth, and how she felt crushed against him.

"Jason," she panted, tearing her mouth from his, her breath ragged. "You could have at least prepared me for that. You-"

"I told you I can never get a word in with you," he reminded her, his rough thumb smoothing over her cheek. "I had to take things into my own hands if you were ever going to listen to me."

"That hardly counts as a word," she pointed out, smiling softly as she slid her hands over his jacket, stretching on her tiptoes to kiss him again.

His arms slid around her, molding her body to his as their lips parted, and their tongues found the familiarity they'd been aching for since their last moment alone like this. He all but lifted her off the ground as he backed her towards an opening on the trellis. Careful to avoid the thorny rose bushes, he pressed her against it, his hands settling at her hips as he tongue mated skillfully with hers. For the longest time she kept her hands fisted in his jacket, growing bold enough after a while to undo the buttons with shaky hands and slide her hands beneath it.

"Jas – Jas…" She panted dizzily, her head falling back against the wood as she broke their kiss, desperate to catch her breath.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, his voice like gravel, his lips hanging over her ear. Her eyes fluttered open and closed as she looked at him, her chest heaving. He released his hold on her hips and started to back away, but she grabbed his hands, placing one back at her hip and slowly sliding the other up her side. "Elizabeth, if I scared…"

"Stop thinking about what happened," she whispered, swallowing hard as she kept her eyes on his. "I'm not going to break, and you aren't going to hurt me." As if to emphasize her point, she closed her eyes, continuing to tug his hand until it settled over her breast, and he could barely stifle his own groan.

"Elizabeth…"

"Please," she murmured, her hips thrusting against his, her body naturally taking over and asking for what it needed. She urged him on, slipping her arms around his neck and pulling his mouth back to hers, letting out a soft moan when he gave in and molded her breast through the material of her dress. Her hands gripped his jacket at the shoulders, fighting to shove it from his shoulders, and moaning in frustration when his hand dropped from her breast long enough to help remove it completely.

She let out a satisfied growl when he palmed her again, tearing his mouth away from hers and tracing a slow, wet path to the top of her breasts. Her hands tore at his shirt, tugging it from the waistband of his pants and slipping below it. She touched him as delicately as she had the roses, her fingertips tracing over the muscular grooves of his chest. Her nails dug into his sides as he nuzzled her dress down enough to expose the top half of her breast, his eyes drinking in the hardened nipple that peeked through the material.

"Oh, God," she whispered, when he covered the nipple with his mouth, sucking it hard through the material. He started to pull away, worried that he'd scared her, but she raked her fingers through his hair, holding him against her.

She withered against him as he continued to toy with the peek through her dress, one hand clawing at his side as she thrust against him, coming apart at the seems in his arms. He couldn't resist thrusting against her, his own arousal obvious, and she surprised him by returning his eagerness, their bodies rocking steadily as he made his way back to her mouth.

He sucked a moan from her mouth as he kissed her, pulling back long enough to look her in the eye. "You don't have to be so quiet," he murmured, knowing that the way she felt and the sounds that were coming from her were new, and she wasn't sure how to handle them. "It lets me know that I'm doing something right."

She nodded, drawing his mouth back to hers to kiss him hard, pulling away to catch her breath again. He pressed his face into her neck, lapped at her delicate skin, wanting to taste and have all of her at once.

Her mouth.

Her skin.

Her ache between her legs.

"Sir!"

"Son of a bitch," he snarled, punching the trellis as he tore himself away from her, leaving her panting against the wooden fence. Her lips were swollen and red, and therey were marks from his mouth all along her chest, trailing to the wet spot that remained over her nipple.

"Sir, are you done here?"

"I'm so sorry," he apologized, as Elizabeth clasped a hand to her mouth and the other over her chest.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "Please don't be."

"Here," he murmured, snatching his jacket from the ground and holding it out to her. "Cover yourself." She frowned, clearly insulted. "No, I don't want Spinelli to-"

"Sir, where are you? You have a vis-"

"I'll be right there!" he growled, sliding the jacket over Elizabeth's shoulders and buttoning several closures snaps on the front. "I don't want him to see you like that."

"Well," she sighed, sliding her arm through Jason's as they started in the direction of his assistant, "one look at us, and he'll know we weren't down here smelling flowers."

"I honestly don't expect much work from you," Jason murmured, easing himself into the chair behind his father's desk, feeling out of place to be on the side he'd always fought against.

"I came here to work," the man across from him argued, raking a hand through his slicked back hair.

"And to watch Elizabeth," he replied, arching an eyebrow and challenging the man to say different. "Why is it that only Jeffrey thinks I'm capable of looking after his daughter?"

"Desperation," he shrugged, cracking a crooked smile. "Sometimes a last resort…"

"A last resort," Jason repeated, disliking how the words felt on his tongue. "You could have looked after her just the same." He rolled his eyes, holding up his hand to silently apologize for offending him, but Jason shrugged it off. "Unfortunately Jeffrey didn't ask you, he asked me, and the only reason you're here now-"

"Is because I gave you the information you needed," he cut in, narrowing his gaze.

"Exactly," he agreed, still convinced that there was more information to give.

It was the only reason he'd given into his demand to accompany them as staff to the country house, and despite Johnny's argument that there was no reason for him to withhold the truth, Jason couldn't help but feel that there _was_ more. If Lucas had attacked Elizabeth the same night of his murder, if Jeffrey had come across them, and if this man had witnessed a father's revenge – well, there were plenty of holes and lapses in time to fill in.

"So, Mr. Morgan, what exactly do you expect from me?" he inquired, his eyes so dark they were almost black.

Something about him; his face, the shade of his eyes, and the smirk he seemed to constantly wear, unnerved Jason completely. The man was overly smug, believing he had something on Jason in some way; be it Jeffrey's respect or Elizabeth's adoration, but he clearly didn't realize how fond the father was of him.

And Elizabeth – _well, she was coming around._

"If you wish to clean, then you may clean. And if you wish to cook, then you may do that, but I'm not much for giving orders," he sighed, already frustrated with this situation.

Sonny obviously intended on being one of those staff members who hung around in the hallways, listening in and taking notes. For the life of him, Jason couldn't figure out why, but it made him all the more curious about the man, which was why he was going to go along with things – _for now._

"Do with it as you will," Jason continued, trying to dismiss the man from his study. He was thankful when there was a knock on the door, relieved that the interruption would hopefully get him out of here.

"Jason," came Elizabeth's quiet voice as she pushed the door open, her head poking inside the room.

She gave him a tired, shy smile, sweeping her loose, bedridden curls from her face. Her lips had softened, and she had a thin shawl over her shoulders, leaving him to wonder if he'd left too much of a mark. Spinelli had eyed them suspiciously, but hadn't said a word, and Elizabeth muttered something about needing a nap as soon as they entered the house. Jason could have used one too – _preferably with her,_ and if his assistant came between them one more time, he was going to send him back to Italy.

"Forgive me, I didn't realize – Oh, Sonny!" She threw the door open the rest of the wday and raced over to the man, practically throwing herself in his lap. "What are you doing here?"

"Lilybeth!" he sighed, wrapping his arms around her. "Your husband offered me a job, and-"

"He did?" she asked, pulling herself from his arms and looking over at Jason. "Funny, he didn't mention it."

"I wanted to surprise you," Jason defended, hoping they weren't going to get into yet another fight. He was starting to think she was one of those dreadful women who argued for the sake of making up later, only her version of making up wasn't quite as worthwhile as he remembered. _Well, they were working on the making up part._ "I told you Johnny contacted Sonny about your father, that things were being handled, and he inquired as to whether or not staff was needed."

"I see," she nodded, grinning as she turned her attention back to Sonny, beaming as she looked at him. "I can't believe you're here. I've missed you so much." She lowered herself into the chair beside his, questions rolling off her tongue one after the other. "How have you been? Your health – is it good? And how is Michael? Not giving you as much trouble as he used to, I hope."

"I've been well, and Michael is the son he's always been," he muttered, tugging uncomfortably at the collar of his shirt. "Enough about me, Lilybeth."

"Oh, do you still have to call me that awful nickname?" she laughed, tipping her head towards Jason. Elizabeth had been so tight-lipped about this man, but it was clear that her feelings for him were nearly as strong as they were for her father. Her eyes were brighter and happier than he'd ever seen, and despite his reservations about the Webber's former servant, he knew Sonny belonged here. "His son, Michael, used to tease me mercilessly and call me Lilybrat."

"You loved it when you were a little girl – well my version, definitely not Michael's," Sonny chuckled, his eyes softening as he looked at her. "Really, I want to hear all about you. One moment you're living alone with only Carly to keep you company, and then I hear you're engaged. I have to admit, I would have liked to come to the wedding."

"Oh, well, it was…private," she replied, her cheeks flushing as she snuck a glance at Jason. "I'm sorry you couldn't attend. Had I more time for something lavish and exciting, you would have been the first invited – as an honorary father." Her eyes dropped to her lap as she failed to hide her frown. Jason hated to see her change from overly happy to heartbroken in a single moment.

"He gave his permission, you know," she continued, fisting her hands nervously in her dress as her eyes rose back to Sonny's. "He contacted Jason, and well…" She sighed, her eyes finding her husband's. "Things went from there."

"You're happy?" Sonny asked, pushing himself up from the chair as he reached out to push a few wispy curls from her forehead.

"For the first time in quite a while," she admitted, her eyes widening as if she couldn't believe what she'd said. She shared a nervous look with Sonny that was filled with more words and understanding than Jason was prepared for. "And I really hope that getting away…"

"It _will_ help," he stressed firmly, flashing an uncomfortable smile that forced her to drop her eyes again, leaving no question as to what this man knew about Elizabeth.

She swallowed hard and her lower lip trembled, causing her to look as scared as she had that night when he'd upset her, leaving Jason to wonder if having Sonny Corinthos in his home wasn't such a good idea after all.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

_London, 1820…_

Elizabeth couldn't meet her husband's eye as she sat across from himin at the dining room table, pretending instead to be enamored by the array of breakfast foods the cook had served. She'd been going on for several minutes about eggs and bacon and the variety of pastries, knowing that she sounded completely insane, but it was easier than actually talking to her husband this morning. She was nervous, scared even, and she could sense that Jason knew all of this.

"You aren't eating," she murmured, smoothing cloth her cloth napkin over her lap with shaky hands.

"Not hungry," he replied, narrowing his gaze at her as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the table.

"You're always hungry," she pointed out, sliding her hands beneath her thighs, hoping to steady them.

"Not always for food," he muttered, his lips twitching into a grin as she blushed. His eyes swept over her face, dipping down the front of her dress, and she wondered what exactly he was thinking about.

"Jason, that's hardly appropriate talk for the breakfast table," she scolded, turning hot at the thought of what else he was hungry for.

"Forgive me," he apologized, folding his napkin up and tossing it onto the table. "I'll save it for later."

"You're terrible," she laughed, shaking her head as she tore off a piece of pastry and slipped it into her mouth, desperate to do something that would make her stop thinking about him. He grinned secretively, not arguing her statement, and it only made her…_hotter._

They hadn't had a moment alone since yesterday afternoon in the garden, and it was already wearing on them both. She couldn't think, let alone sleep, eat, or go about herdo any other daily routine because she kept thinking about his mouth, his hands, and all those things he could – _would_ – do with them.

She had hoped that after her second nap of the day – all these frustratinged, hot flashes were leaving her so exhausted – she would find Jason and actually get somewhere with whatever it was they were starting. Well, she wasn't that innocent as to what would obviously occur between them, but all of it was still new to her. Lulu and Carly, mostly Carly, often talked about their escapades and Elizabeth never could understand what they went on about, butand now that she knew, she wished she had someone to talk to.

"Can I get you anything else?"

Elizabeth's head snapped towards the doorway where Sonny stood, a tight smile on his face. The image was so familiar; stiff arms at his sides, his jacket pressed and neatly buttoned, but much of it was different. Or rather, the feelings that came with seeing him.

Sending Sonny away had been terribly difficult for her. He'd been around since she was a little girl, and she remembered his presence as strongly as her father's, but those days after the incident – well, they left her no choice. It was hard enough to live with what had happened on her own, and she didn't need someone else looking at her with knowing eyes as they, too, drowned in the absence of her father.

Jason looked expectantly at Elizabeth, but she simply shrugged, shifting her eyes from Sonny and back to her pastry, relieved when her husband dismissed him.

When all of this started; when Jason first arrived and started ordering her around, she hadn't thought about the mess that he was stepping into. He was in knee deep and then some now, and while she didn't know what exactly was going on with her father's case, she had no doubt that he would stop at nothing to free him.

And she just didn't know what to think about that.

She could have been honest from the beginning, choosing to work with him, instead of against him, because now, the more she was around him, and the more things she felt for him, she knew she'd made a mistake. Seeing Sonny had reminded her of that; how a secret can be so heavy it changes everything between two people. Regardless of whether it was intentional or not, what had happened that night between her and Lucky changed the way both men saw and her, and Sonny's presence only reminded her of that.

"Elizabeth, please tell me what's wrong," Jason murmured quietly, pushing his chair back from the table. He got up slowly, making his way to the other side where she was sitting, and hesitantly sunk down beside her. "Does…does he know about…?"

She nodded, tilting her heads towards her husband, but notdidn't lifting her eyes. "He knows."

"He knows what Luc – what happened to you?" Jason asked nervously, sliding his arm over the back of her chair. He reached out and brushed the back of her neck with his fingertips, causing her to shiver.

"Yes," she whispered, letting out a shaky breath. "He knows…_everything."_ She fisted her napkin in her hands, suddenly feeling as though she was coming apart at the seams. After all, how long could a secret stay hidden when two people were forced to look at one another day after day while knowing what no one else knew?

Jason's eyes darkened and he drew his hand away, clearing his throat. "He knows what, exactly?"

"Everything," she repeated, slumping forward in defeat, and hating that Jason would find out like this. She should have been honest from the beginning.

"I – I don't understand," he stammered, shaking his head. He started to touch her again, but stopped. "Are you saying that your father-"

"Excuse me, sir."

"Yes?" Jason asked curtly, lifting his eyes to Sonny who'd reappeared in the doorway.

"Mr. and Mrs. Zacchara have arrived," he answered, nodding politely before excusing himself as if knowing he'd interrupted something serious. "Where should I have them wait?"

"Bring – bring them in here," Elizabeth answered, finding her voice and cutting Jason off before he could reply. She dusted her hands off on the skirt of her dress and scooted her chair back. "We'll have to…finish…"

"Later," he agreed, looking relieved that she wanted to finish this conversation. Not like it wasn't as if she had a choice at this point. She started to turn towards the door, but he gently grabbed her hand, pulling her towards him. "I have to go into later today. Johnny is going with me. I thought maybe Nadine and the boys could keep you company while I was gone."

"That sounds lovely," she sighed, stretching to press a kiss to his cheek. She leaned into him long enough to feel safe and secure, to feel as if this might be alright.

"Elizabeth, if this can't wait till then..." he started, stopping when she shook her head.

"I'd like to enjoy this day." She smiled faintly, turning back to the doorway with a grin when the boys burst loudly into the room, their parents in tow.

"She's happier, I think," Jason murmured, leaning against the door of the carriage as he scrubbed a hand over his face. "But there's something she's not telling me."

"You've only been here a day," Johnny shrugged, giving his friend a hopeful smile. "You have to give it some time. What about you? How are you holding up? I got chills when I stepped into that house so I know it must be strange for you."

"I'm fine," he said, hurrying to brush his friend's comments aside. "I'm more worried about Elizabeth. I can handle the ghosts that exist in that house as long as it helps her."

"She won't change overnight. You remember how Nadine was – she was scared, always on edge-"

"Elizabeth isn't like that," he interrupted, sighing heavily. "She, uh, - he didn't rape her."

"Oh," his friend murmured in surprise.

"But he tried," Jason finished, hanging his head. "She has moments where she's perfectly fine, but then something happens, and she's lost all over again."

"You mean like it triggers a memory?"

"I suppose," he answered confused. "I honestly believed that having Sonny here would help her, and she was so excited to see him last night, but today – she tells me he knows everything."

"Doesn't surprise me," Johnny replied sadly. "The help knows more than we do sometimes."

"Exactly," he agreed, "and she told me he knows. That he knows everything."

"As in who really killed him," he said, following Jason's train of thought. "Do you think it was Sonny? That maybe-"

"I don't think so," he cut in, shaking his head firmly. "He cares about Elizabeth. I can see that when he looks at her, but Elizabeth sees something – in his eyes, I guess. He looks at her like he knows something, I think, and that scares her."

"Because she doesn't want you to know," Johnny suggested, looking away when Jason narrowed his eyes at him.

From the beginning, Johnny had tossed around the possibility that Elizabeth had something to do with the murder, but he refused to see it. She was so small and frail, and if she were being attacked by a much bigger and stronger man, there was no way she could fight him off unless…someone helped her.

Scowling, he rubbed his hands over his face, tired of going through the same information over and over in his head. "Sonny made this deal. He offered us information in exchange for coming here to work."

"Do you think he has something to hide?" Johnny asked, arching his eyebrows worriedly.

"I do," he nodded, clenching his jaw. "The truth."

"I don't understand why Elizabeth and Jeffrey would lie for him," he argued, not believing Jason's accusation.

"Loyalty. Sonny gave histheir life to themhim, and Jeffrey gave his in return. That's even _if_ Sonny had anything to do with it. I just know he wanted to be near Elizabeth for a reason. He wanted this job. It wasn't about the money."

"Did you ever think maybe he's worried about you?" Johnny asked, cracking a grin as he laughed. "Same reason Carly probably disliked you too."

"Oh, stop," he huffed, glaring at him. "I may not be the most decent of men, but I would never hurt her, and if they think that…"

"Quite defensive," Johnny commented, his eyes lighting up. "Protective of the misses, I see."

"Stop," he hissed, turning to look out the window, mostly to keep himself from pummeling his friend in a confined space. Not that it would have been the first time.

"It's good, I think," he shrugged happily, which caused Jason to groan. "You care about her. Not just because of Jeffrey or because she's your wife. You care. _About her._ It's nice."

"Shut up," he muttered, refusing to have this conversation with Johnny. He was so damn happy about marriage and commitment that it left Jason practically disgusted, which was very annoying considering it used to completely disgust him

Except now he had a wife; an attractive, witty, annoying wife that wanted him as badly as he wanted her, and he wasn't sure what to do about that. He meant what he told her yesterday -; about still not wanting a lifelong commitment - , except now all he could think about was taking his wife and getting her the hell out of London, to hell with everything else.

But there was her father.

And the idea of being saddled with a wife, which meant children and responsibilities, and well, none of those had ever gone very well for him.

"Jason?" Johnny asked, snickering to himself as he looked over at him, a heavy frown on his face.

"Will you name the first born after me?" he quipped, ducking and covering his head when Jason's fist flew out.

"You are quite the natural with children," Nadine murmured, sitting down beside Elizabeth on the terrace, trying to catch her breath. She'd just separated the boys for the third time in the last hour, and it was starting to wear on her.

"I suppose it comes from helping my father with his patients," Elizabeth shrugged, shifting a sleeping Amalia in her arms. She started to hold her out to her mother, but Nadine waved her hand.

"You have no idea how wonderful it feels to have both arms free," she laughed, clucking her tongue as she watched the boys chase one another across the yard. "I have no idea what I'm going to do with them when they're older."

"Pray they find a woman who can change them," she joked, rocking the baby gently in her arms. She'd been tending to herher to for an hour or so, and it was a strange feeling to hold a child, and it left her with an ache she couldn't rightly describe.

"Well, the right woman can work wonders," she agreed, giving her a warm smile. "You've done quite well with Jason, I think. Or at least things appear to be better." She blushed and shook her head. "There I go, not-so-subtly prying into something that's none of my business. It really is a wonder that more people don't-"

"No, it's fine," Elizabeth interrupted, relieved to have someone to talk to. "It's good…to have someone to talk to about Jason."

Her eyes softened. "Things aren't good?"

"Well, they are complicated," she answered honestly, feeling less anxious now that she was being honest. "I feel like we get close and then we pull apart again, which is understandable, I suppose. There are so many things I haven't told him."

"And that he hasn't told you," Nadine added seriously. "Don't put all the pressure on yourself. Jason is private and secretive, which is probably why you two get along so well. You're the moust trustworthy kinds of friendpeople because people can tell you anything, but sometimes holding onto that trust makes things more difficult."

She had no idea how this woman seemed to understand everything, leaving her to wonder if Jason and Johnny were more alike than she imagined. At least, such a thought gave her hope when she looked at Nadine and her beautiful children. Maybe Jason would come around in more ways than she believed, and even if he didn't, she wasn't going to pressure him. She wanted what she could have because she'd never have this chance again, and that desire to have this – whatever you could call her and Jason – was taking a toll on her in more ways than she ever thought possible.

Nadine was talking about this honest and trustworthy person, but she'd shown Jason nothing of the sort. She was quiet and private, letting him in a little bit at a time, but any progress was countered by something stressful or upsetting, and it all seemed worthless.

"Do you like being here?" she asked, swearing under her breath when one of the older boys knocked the littlest over, and he started to cry. She let out a sigh of relief when he didn't come running to her and went after his brothers instead.

"Yesterday was nice. We fought, which isn't anything new, but by the end of the day…" She trailed off thinking about the garden again, and she tried to push such thoughts from her mind because they were the last thing she needed to be thinking.

"It is easier?" she asked nervously, looking Elizabeth over in a way that made her uneasy. "Oh, there I go, doing it again. I don't mean to pry at all. I just – Jason was worried about you, concerned about how you were doing in the city and…I just – I want to make sure you're okay. I've said it before – that I know he can be controlling and annoying and impossible, and I want you to know that when he's like that in the most over bearing of ways, it is because he cares."

"That's nice to hear." She smiled, dropping her eyes to the baby's face. "Sometimes I never know what he's thinking. He'll act afraid to speak to me or even look at me, let alone touch me, and then he has those moments where he says and does anything, and I…" She shrugged, lifting her eyes to Nadine. "I wish he could find balance, but I know this situation is hard for us all."

"Patience is the key to co-existing with any man," she said with a grin, pointing at her boys. "I should know. I have enough of them in my life." Elizabeth laughed as she got up from the chair, starting towards the boys who were piled in a heap and throwing punches. It was strange to envy Nadine for her loud, screaming and fighting children, but she couldn't help it. Sighing, she shifted Amalia in her arms, cooing softly at the baby when her eyes fluttered open, blinking as she adjusted to the sunlight. "I hope life is much easier for you. That things stay as beautiful as I remember them being."

"Elizabeth?" She looked over her shoulder to see Sonny making his way over. "Dinner is almost ready."

"It's that late?" she asked, frowning as she got up from the chair. Jason said he may be gone for a while, but that he'd try to make it back in time for dinner, and she couldn't help but feel uneasy. There was so much they needed to discuss, and she was afraid that her determination to tell the truth would falter before she saw him again, and she'd go back to lying.

"There's probably an hour or two left of the sun," he answered, giving her a warm smile. "Are you alright?"

"I'm still getting used to things. Being married, moving, and now you," she admitted apprehensively, not wanting to offend him.

"It's an odd rush of emotion," he agreed, frowning as he looked away. "I was told you saw your father. How was he?"

"As well as can be expected," she answered quietly, feeling guilty that she hadn't thought about him a lot in the past couple of days. And she'd spent the afternoon dreaming of possibilities between her and Jason; none of this was fair.

"You know what your husband is trying to do," Sonny said seriously, shifting his eyes back to her. "I just hope he knows what exactly he's uncovering."

"It's getting late," Johnny said, wiping the condensation from his mug of beer with his hand.

"Yeah," Jason agreed, taking a slow sip from his beer as he looked around the pub.

They'd come to town to check into some information his friend had gathered on Richard Lansing, hoping to find some sort of skeleton they could use against him, but the man seemed to keep up on things. Everyone who passed on tidbits agreed that Richard was scathing and cruel, so there had to be something. However they were going up against the law and finding something was unlikely, so Jason had turned his attention to Sonny.

Something about the man was completely unsettling, and now he wanted to find out as much as possible, which wasn't enough to amount to anything. They'd asked around and found out his son, Michael, appeared to be nothing more than a thieving drunk. He had a list of arrests that should have kept him in prison, but somehow he kept getting released. Their curiosity had led them to the pub because it was the perfect place to ask around about people without being too obvious, only not many seemed willing to talk about the Corinthos family, just like no one wanted to talk about Lansing.

"Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in," a husky female voice purred behind him, and Jason couldn't refrain from rolling his eyes when he felt an arm slide over the back of his chair.

"Nice to you see you," Johnny muttered, tossing a glare over his shoulder at his sister. "I see not much has changed."

"I heard Jason Morgan was back in town, and I just had to make an appearance," she said, squeezing Jason's shoulder. "How is my baby brother's best friend? We all thought you'd gone away for good and now you're back and married to the town harlot."

"What? Upset that someone took your title?" Jason hissed, gritting his teeth as he jerked away from her.

"Aw, just as frisky as you always were," she teased, flashing him a flirty smile. "At least your wife lets you out to play."

Jason swore under his breath and shot Johnny a look, giving his friend a chance to handle the situation before he did.

"Claudia, go pick up on some other poor chap. Jason's all taken care of," he said, trying to be patient.

"How is the misses?" she pressed, ignoring her brother. "Daddy's in prison. She's all alone. You must have had a time with her." Jason sunk his teeth into his tongue, refusing to let her goad him into a crude response. "I'm trying to have some fun boys. You're both so uptight."

"Better than being too loose," Jason muttered, shooting his friend an apologizing look, but Johnny didn't seem to mind. They were too used to Claudia's antics; it had been a while though.

"Still a quick one. I like that," she grinned, poking him in the arm. "So, what gives, boys? I know you two aren't out for a good time. Rumor has it, someone's out to set Jeffrey Webber free, and Richard Lansing is anything but happy about that."

Jason perked up, suddenly glad that he hadn't been too harsh with her. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of going to Claudia before. She got around, always had, and because of that she knew everything that went on around London. "What do you know, Claudia?"

Her eyes shimmered as she looked him up and down. "Oh, an attitude change, Jason. I like it."

"What do you know?" he repeated, refusing to play games.

"I know Richard was away for a little while and now that he's back, he's more than upset that you've been sniffing around his case. He may even try to move the trial date up, but he's still hoping to find the real-"

"Selling yourself as usual?" a man asked, gripping Claudia's arm and jerking her away from Jason and her brother. She rolled her eyes and held a hand up to signal that she was fine, which was good because Johnny looked ready to pounce. His sister may have been a whore, but he wasn't going to let everyone call her that.

"This is my brother and his oldest friend," she murmured, pulling herself away and motioning back and forth between the men. "Richard meet Jason Morgan and Johnny Zacchara." Her eyes widened as she flashed a sneaky grin before slipping off through the crowds, leaving Jason to wonder if this whole situation wasn't planned.

"I believe it's about time we've met," Richard said, holding out his hand and laughing to himself when neither man took it. "We can't put our differences aside and have a drink?"

"We have nothing to say to you," Johnny replied stiffly, turning back to the bar and picking up his beer.

"You obviously have something to say," he muttered, grinning widely at Jason. "How is married life treating you? It was nice of you to go to such extremes to keep the marriage hush, but nothing gets by me."

"My marriage is none of your concern," Jason murmured, his jaw ticking.

"No, it's definitely not," he said smugly, scratching his chin. "Been there, done that, and Elizabeth was too cold to be any fun. Who wants a frigid woman who backs away every time you touch her?" He grinned when Jason stepped forward, his fists clenched at his sides, clearly enjoying upsetting him. "I should be thankful that she chose Spencer over me because look at how he ended up. It's a sad story really, but at least you'll be her happy ending, right?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," he warned, stopping himself when Johnny grabbed his arm, knowing what was about to happen.

"I know enough of it," he shrugged. "Fathers cover up for their daughters all the time. Just be careful around the misses. If theories prove correct, when she gets upset, she likes to play with kni-" Jason's fist connected with Richard's face before he could finish.

"Bad idea," Richard hissed, lunging back the moment he regained his balance.

Johnny attempted to pull them apart, but they knocked him out of the way as they slammed one another against the bar and tumbled to the floor. Somehow Jason ended up beneath Richard, and before Johnny could pull him off his friend, he was being grabbed forcefully by two police officers and pulled away.

"Take him outside and hold him," Richard called after the officers, looking at the other two who were now pulling Jason to his feet. "And take Mr. Morgan out back. He and I have some differences to settle."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

_London, 1820…_

Elizabeth yawned and rolled onto her back at the sound of the front door slamming, followed by several loud voices. She shivered as she tossed her covers back and her bare feet touched the cold floor. Tipping her head towards the window, she caught a faint glimpse of the night's sky and knew it was later than Jason had intended on coming home. She reached for the candle on the table next to her bed, knowing she couldn't have been asleep for long because the stick had burned less than halfway down.

Nadine and the children stayed as late as they possibly could, leaving only after the sun dipped from the sky and the children started to crawl out of their skin, desperate to be at home and following their usual routine. She'd joked to Elizabeth that their husbands had probably stopped at a pub, and she'd tried to hide that she was worried, thinking of what had happened the last time Jason had too much to drink at a pub.

She was also trying to pretend that she wasn't upset; that she didn't feel like moving to the country had been some sort of ploy. They'd barely been there twenty-four hours, and he was already running away again. Sure, the case was extremely important, but…it was silly of her to be selfish.

The case was why all this had happened.

Sighing, she gently tugged her robe from her bedpost, scolding herself for almost falling apart on Jason earlier. She'd all but told him the truth, and perhaps that was why he was so eager to leave with his friend. Shrugging her robe carefully over her shoulders, she strained to listen as the voices grew louder as if they were coming up the stairs, jerking the door open when she heard Johnny yelling for help.

The candlelight flickered in the hallway, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. "What's – oh my God!" she cried, rushing to the top of the stairs, where Johnny was helping Jason rest against the banister, a bloody hand clutching his side. A door opened behind her, and she knew without turning around it was Spinelli. "What – what happened?"

"Go back to bed," Jason muttered, hanging his head as he pulled himself up on the last step.

"You're terribly hurt," she argued, glancing at Johnny, but it was clear he wasn't going to give an explanation. She reached out to pull his hand away, but he stumbled back, nearly falling down the stairs in the process. "What happened? Who did this to you?"

She rubbed a shaky hand over her face and shoved her wild, loose curls from her face. "Someone better start speaking-"

"I'm fine," he groaned, straightening up as if to make a point. "Go back to bed. I'll go to bed. And you should – your nightgown, your-"

"Oh, well, that doesn't matter right now," she huffed, jerking her robe closed and glaring at Johnny. "Are you going to stand there or are you going to help him down the hall?" She didn't wait for his answer and turned to Spinelli, letting out a shaky breath. None of theise mean appeared to have a hand on the situation, and if someone didn't do something soon, Jason was going to be worse off than he already was. "Get some cloths and some water, and wake up Sonny."

She started after Jason and Johnny before he could say a word, slowly when she neared her husband's room, realizing that she'd never actually been inside of it. Not here or at their home in the city, and it was a strange feeling, as if there was another side to him that existed. Her eyes swept over it hurriedly, taking in the stack of books on the desk and next to the bed, and it would have made her smile, but any warm thoughts were cut off from his groaning as Johnny helped him to the bed.

"What happened?" she asked impatiently, setting her candle down on the table and looking between them. "Oh, you two." She swore under her breath as she turned her attention to Jason, tugging his hand away despite his protests, and ordering Johnny to hold the candle so she could check his wound. "Jason…what…were you stabbed?"

"Go to bed," he murmured, his eyes fluttering as he pressed his hand back against his side.

"Johnny, tell me what the hell happened to my husband," she snapped, glancing at the doorway and wondering what was taking Spinelli so long.

"We, uh, we were – at a – at a pub," he stammered, raking a bloody hand through his messy hair as he looked at his friend. "Lansing goaded him, and Jason threw a punch."

"Richard?" she asked, her eyes widening as she sank down on the mattress. "Why were you…" She shrugged, knowing that whatever had happened probably involved her father. She shifted to lean over Jason, tugging the blanket to his side and pressing down as hard as she could. There was so much blood on his shirt and his hands, and she knew if they didn't do something soon.

"Did Richard stab him?" she asked, wincing when Jason groaned as she moved to sit on her knees, weighing down on him as much as possible.

"I found him that way," Johnny said quietly, pacing back and forth beside her. "Two officers pulled me out of the bar, and I thought they'd arrest us, but instead…" He swallowed hard, looking towards the door as Spinelli and Sonny rushed into the room. "I'm so sorry. I-"

"You didn't punch, Richard," she cut in, smiling over her shoulder to let him know she understood that none of this was her fault.

"No, I did," Jason grunted, letting out a low growl as he tried to sit up.

"Lay down," Elizabeth ordered, holding her hand out to Spinelli. "Give me the cloths, and get me some water." Her husband muttered something she didn't understand while all the other men looked on. "Why are you standing here? Jason's bleeding all over the damn place and if we don't do something he's going…" Tears pricked her eyes as she hung her head, her hands tearing his shirt away from his side.

"Get some water," Johnny barked, kneeling down beside her on the bed as Spinelli scurried from the room. "What – what can I do?"

"We have to stop the bleeding, and we're going to have to close to the wound," she answered, feeling eerily like her father. How many times had she heard him say those very same words? "We have to be careful because of infection and blood loss, and there's no time for a doctor. I just – why didn't you think to go to a doctor?"

"He wanted to come home," he replied quietly, wringing his hands when he didn't know what to do. "He said you would be worried and-"

"Well, he's done a fine job of not worrying me," she muttered, motioning for Johnny to move towards his shoulders. "What I'm going to do isn't going to feel very nice. You'll have to help hold him down."

"Are you sure you can do this?" Johnny asked, eyeing her closely.

She nodded, shifting her eyes to Sonny, who'd been oddly quiet since coming into the room. This was no way to be woken from a deep sleep, but she knew he'd gone through it a number of times. "You've helped my father before," she murmured, nibbling her lip. "I need you to help me now."

"Of course," he agreed, walking over to the bed as Jason stirred, continuing to mumble.

"Hold him down," Elizabeth ordered, taking a deep breath and telling herself she couldn't mess up, not now. She shrugged her robe from her shoulders and tossed it aside, not caring if it was inappropriate or wrong. Nothing else mattered right now except making Jason okay, and she was the only person fit for the task, which meant she'd have to depend on the few procedures she'd actually seen to get through this.

Jason had to be okay; she needed him to be.

She needed him to live so she could tell the truth and fix this, but mostly because she wasn't sure if she could live without him.

"It's been hours," Johnny sighed, resting his forehead against the window frame as he watched the sun come up in the distance.

Elizabeth stirred slightly infrom the chair she'd pulled to the side of the bed, barely able to hold her eyes open. "He lost a lot of blood, and he spiked a fever for a while, so…" The self-convincing was exhausting, and she'd outdone the mantra of it being okay shortly after closing the wound.

It'd taken hours to get him settled and somewhat comfortable, along with cleaning up the mess and changing the sheets and she could only think of one other night that she'd been so exhausted. Jason had passed out during the whole ordeal, consumed by both the pain and blood loss, and part of her was terrified that tonight was going to be their last moment together. She knew he would have hated the entire scene; his wife's flimsy nightgown and delicate hands delicate hands and flimsy nightgown stained with his blood as they rushed over him, desperate to keep him alive.

"Lansing is a bastard," Johnny hissed, slamming his fist against the windowsill like he'd done countless times in the last few hours. "I'll make sure that he-"

"It's my fault," she interrupted, hanging her head. "He would have known to steer clear of him if I would have told him…" She lifted her eyes, not surprised to find Sonny's on her, his lips in a taut frown. "Richard is completely insane. I don't know why Jason had to hit him."

She moved to her feet, snatching her robe off the bed, suddenly feeling exposed – like she should be covered. "What did he say?" she asked, her hands clasping it closed as she walked over to stand beside Johnny. "Was it about my father?"

He shook his head, swallowing hard as he looked out the window. "No."

"Then what was it?" she asked again, desperate to know.

"He said things about…" Johnny's eyes found hers, and she nodded, not needing to hear anything else.

Leave it to Richard Lansing to take a cheap shot and use her as a way to get to Jason. "It's my fault," she repeated, tilting her head in the direction of the bed.

Her heart clenched at the sight of his pale skin and ragged breaths, his chest rising and falling so unsteadily she'd sat by the bed to make sure he kept breathing, determined to breathe for him if he couldn't.

"You saved him," Johnny murmured, trying to appease her yet again for what she'd done.

"He still needs a doctor," she reminded him, walking over to the bed. Jason's body jerked as she neared, his eyes snapping open, a low growl coming from his lips. "Please be still, Jason."

His eyes fluttered heavily as he started to shift up, but thankfully Johnny hurried over and pressed him back against the mattress. He started to speak, but nothing came out accept a groan, so raw and painful it brought tears to Elizabeth's eyes.

"Spinelli, go to the study. Jason always keeps whiskey in the top drawer," Johnny ordered, glancing hesitantly at Elizabeth.

"It'll help with his pain," she nodded understandingly. "We should have forced him to drink some before he passed-" She stopped when he groaned again, and she dropped down beside him on the bed, skimming her hand over his face. "You're running a fever."

"So sorry," he whispered, his lips cracked and dry.

"Oh, Jason," she sighed, her palm settling against his face as she slipped the other over his hand. "Just be still. You need rest and-"

"I'm so…sorry," he repeated, his head rolling against the pillow. "I don't...remember…I can't…"

"What did he say?" Johnny asked worriedly, sitting down in the chair next to the bed.

"He doesn't remember?" she asked confused, shrugging it off. "He's apologizing for not-"

"I tried," Jason interrupted again, his eyes settling on Elizabeth, and she couldn't help but smile as she saw him slowly come into focus. "Your hair…"

"Oh," she sighed, suddenly feeling self-conscious about her loose curls. "You should – you should get some rest. We're going to get you some whiskey and you'll sleep this off, and I won't even nag you for starting a bar fight."

"…deserved it…thinks you did it…I can't…remember…"

"What did he say?" Sonny asked, getting up from across the room, his eyes darkening as he approached the opposite side of the bed.

"He's delirious from the fever," she replied, taking a deep breath as she looked sternly at the servant. "You're not needed here now, so just go back to bed."

Sonny shook his head. "Elizabeth, I heard-"

"Leave," she interrupted firmly, narrowing her eyes at him, refusing to be controlled by fear. She looked carefully at each of the men, letting them know she'd meant her words. "All of you just leave! I can take care of my husband just fine…" She started to apologize for yelling, mostly at Johnny, but decided it was for the best anyway. She didn't need to have all of these people crowding Jason, and all she really wanted to do was climb into bed bedside him. "So leave me to it."

Johnny hesitated, but moved to his feet, reaching out to place a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You saved him, Elizabeth." She nodded, her eyes pooling with tears, too afraid too look at him, to look anywhere except at Jason. "Let's go, Sonny." The servant started to buck, but Elizabeth cleared her throat loudly, a silent warning, and he followed Johnny out the door, closing itthe door behind them.

She slumped forward the moment there was distance put between them, her heart tightening as tears slipped from her eyes. "Dammit, Jason," she hissed, cradling his hand gently in between her own and lifting it to her mouth. She kissed the back of his hand, clutching it to her chest when she realized how cold he felt. "This is my fault. I should have been honest from the beginning instead of…"

"Elizabeth?"

"Yes," she murmured, looking over her shoulder to see Johnny peeking through the door, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. "Oh, of course." She gently squeezed Jason's hand before she got up from the bed and walked over to take the bottle. "Thank you…for everything."

"I just did what you told me told me to," he shrugged, hesitating when he turned to leave. "Elizabeth…what Jason was saying-"

"He has a fever," she cut in, unscrewing the cap from the bottle as she walked back to the bed. "He doesn't know what he's saying and whatever Ric said was…"

"What?" he pried, narrowing his eyes at her back.

"It's between Jason and me," she murmured stiffly, settling down beside her husband on the bed. "So go get some rest or go home to your wife. I can handle it from here." Her shoulders sagged when he didn't leave immediately, and she wasn't sure if she had the strength to yell like she did before. "Please."

He sighed heavily. "As you wish."

She closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath as he closed the door, almost thankful when Jason let out a groan. She needed the distractioned, needed to care for him, fret over him, if she was going to get through this.

"Jason," she said, sweeping her hand over the side of his face. "Jason, I've got some whiskey for you to drink. It'll help with the pain until we can get a doctor to come." She inched her way to the top of the bed, sliding her hand beneath the back of his head and lifting it. "You're going to have to help me here."

"Eliza – beth," he stammered, his dark blue eyes peeking out from beneath his lashes.

"Open your mouth just a bit," she said patiently, giving him a gentle smile. She was hoping the worst was over and that a doctor would be able to say she'd done everything just right, and her husband was going to be okay. "There you go."

She swiped her thumb across his lower lip and chin, waiting until he was is ready for another sip. "Take it easy," she murmured, holding the bottle to his lips as he gulped the dark liquid down.

"That's – that's good," he groaned, her hand continuing to cradle his head as he dropped it back to the pillow. He grunted as his eyes fluttered closed, and she threaded her fingers through his wet hair as she slid her hand from beneath his head, relieved that he was sweating because that meant his fever was breaking. "Go to sleep. I'll be here if you need anything."

She slid off the bed to put the whiskey on the table and almost forgot the lid. Jason wouldn't have been very pleased to have an entire bottle of liquor wasted, and the idea of him scolding her for something so trivial made her smile. He groaned again, causing her attention to snap back to the bed, but he seemed to be dozing off.

"Please let him be alright," she whispered, folding her robe closed as she paced back and forth beside the bed.

She wasn't sure how long she stood there; walking the length of the room, her body achingly tired as she moseyed about, determined to stay awake in case he needed her. The sun came up, spilling the bright, morning light into the room, eventually turning to the afternoon while all she did was pace, refusing to give in to exhaustion.

"Elizabeth."

She looked up from the window on the far side of the room, where she'd been watching the gardener tend to the roses. "Jason, you're awake," she murmured, the tension easing away when she noticed how the color had returned to his face and his breaths were now steady. "How – how are you feeling?"

"Been worse," he replied, licking his lips as his eyes cracked open. Even his eyes were brighter and bluer than she ever remembered. "I'm sorry…about this."

"This isn't the time for apologizing," she said firmly, crawling on the bed and sitting down beside him. The mattress felt so inviting beneath her, comforting even, and it took all her strength not to collapse completely. "You need to rest. Johnny was supposed to have sent for a doctor and-"

"I'm sorry," he repeated, ignoring her brush off. "I should have…come home. Ric – he said things – and-"

"Please, Jason," she begged, not wanting to get into everything when he was in such terrible condition. He needed his strength to get heal, and then…well, she supposed she'd take it all from him again. "You need to rest. There's plenty of time for everything else." She pressed her palm against his forehead. "I don't think you're running a fever anymore."

"You've been checking?" he asked, a faint, sleepy smile spreading across his face.

"I've been here all night," she replied, exhaustion washing over her all at once. She'd been so focused on Jason; taking care of him, making sure he was still just breathing, that she hadn't realized how tired she really was. "I did the best I could with your wound, but a doctor is-"

"You haven't slept?" She shook her head, smiling as his arm stretched out, patting the place beside him. "You need rest too."

"I'm fine."

"I slept when you asked me to," he reminded her, his eyes softening. "I'll even sleep more if you promise to also."

"If you need something-"

"I'll wake you."

"Fair enough," she said, sliding her body down on the bed, the top of her head resting against the edge of his arm. She wanted to be closer to him, but found it to be oddly intimidating. She'd been staring at his bare chest for hours, had touched and bathed it even, but thisnot was different – _intimate._

"I won't bite," he murmured as she made herself comfortable. "At least not yet anyway."

"Jason," she sighed, inching her way closer, shivering when his arm slipped around her, and cradled her at his side. She was surprised by how warm and smooth his skin felt and found herself wanting to touch it, but knew that know was hardly the appropriate time.

She didn't fall asleep right away, her head busy with thoughts and fears, and it was only when he started to snore quietly that she felt herself relax. At least if he was sleeping, he wouldn't ask questions about things she wasn't prepared to answer.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, draping her arm over his waist, her fingertips tracing the bandage at his side. "I really didn't want you to find out this way."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

_London, 1820…_

Elizabeth yawned, rubbing her eyes with her fists as she stretched out on the bed, gasping when she felt the empty space beside her. "Jason?" she cried, sitting up in bed and looking around the room, her shoulders slumping with relief when she saw him standing at the window. "You're supposed to be resting."

"I've been resting for two days now," he murmured, shifting his eyes to hers and giving her a soft smile.

"The doctor said you need to stay in bed," she argued, throwing the comforter back from her legs. He couldn't help but grin at the sight of slender legs peeking out from beneath her nightgown as she slid off the bed, her feet feeling across the floor for her slippers.

"He said that if the wound hadve been just half an inch over…" She trailed off fumbling to slip her robe over her shoulders, frustration getting the best of her when she finally tossed it back onto the bed.

"It wasn't half an inch over," he reminded her, just as he had for the last two days. He crossed the room to the other side of the bed and grabbed her robe, holding it out for her to step into. "Here."

"Thank you," she said quietly, folding the robe closed as she turned to face him. "I really do wish you would listen to the doctor."

"He told me to stay in bed, and I did for two days," he sighed, not wanting to get into all the reasons that staying in bed was starting to drive him mad.

Two days to think of all the things that Ric had said to him, and two days of mixing those comments with Johnny's assumptions. He was getting nowhere with the case; just a wider, deeper hole, and time was going to run out eventually.

Not to mention that Elizabeth hadn't left his side for the last two days; refusing to leave him alone for a single moment, which he understood was because she was afraid. It wouldn't have been so annoying if she wasn't so _close_ to him all the time.

He'd watched her eat for six straight meals, and sometimes he found himself envying the food that she put in her mouth. And he'd sat beside her while she stretched out on the bed, sketching quietly and providing short anecdotes here and there about her life, her curls hanging loosely at her shoulders. Though she wasn't the one to blame for that – he'd asked her to leave it down because he liked the way itthey framed her face and made her appear at ease.

Sleeping next to her was the worst, but he'd asked her to do that too, so this was all his own self-torture. He'd wake up in the middle of theher night with her body either curled against his side or draped halfway over his, forcing heat to radiate between them in ways that neither of them wasere prepared for.

Well, he was.

He knew exactly what to do with these kinds of urges, but with Elizabeth things were going to have to go slowly – that was if they happened at all. And despite what had happened in the garden and everything else that he felt for her, part of him wanted to say no, to push her away, and to keep the inevitable from happening, but then he would look at her. And he'd remember the way her mouth felt against his and how ragged her breaths were, and he wanted it all, which was precisely why he'd forced himself out of bed before she'd woken this morning. He wanted to avoid another awkward morning, where they stared one another in the face, trying to pretend that what they weren't thinking wasn't completely exactly pure.

Well, his thoughts weren't.

And when ith the she smiled and nuzzled against him in the mornings, her fingers gently stroking his side, something told him hers weren't either. There'd been the slightest hint of desire in his eyes from the first time they'd met, and he'd noticed how it deepened as time went by, and he just couldn't think about it…at _all._

Especially now; when Ric had accused his wife of murder, and his best friend seemed to think the same thing, and all he could do was look at her and _not_ see anything of the sort.

"Jason?" she asked worriedly, lifting a hand to his face. "Are you alright?"

He nodded, placing his hand over hers and pulling it from his face. "I'm sorry you were afraid, Elizabeth."

"Well, it's not as if you stabbed yourself," she muttered, dropping her eyes to his side. "I still can't believe that Ric would do something so dirty. I've always thought he was a little…strange and controlling, but this…" She slid her hand beneath his shirt, tracing a path to his bandage. He shivered beneath her touch, letting out a shaky breath, which caused her to smile. "If you're not careful you'll break your stitches."

"I'll be careful, but you can't keep me in bed forever," he said, biting back a groan as she slipped her hand around to his back, resting it flatly against his smooth skin.

"I suppose I've gotten used to having you to myself," she replied, pulling her lip back and forth between her teeth.

Even he had to admit it was nice; so few interruptions and so few arguments, except over dinner. He was surprised with how much control Elizabeth had taken in her attempt to save his life and keep him safe. No one had ever tried to protect him in such a way – well, no one except Jeffrey Webber, so perhaps it ran in her blood.

"And I've enjoyed being alone with you, but…" He shrugged as he lifted a hand to her face, gently tucking her silky curls behind her ear. "There is so much-"

"I know," she interrupted, dropping her eyes to the floor. "I only hope you'll feel the same way about being alone with me when all the truths are told." She swallowed hard, her eyes fluttering closed beneath his touch as a knock came on the door across the room. She stepped away as it continued, folding the robe over her flimsy nightgown as she hurried over to answer it. "Yes? Who is it?"

"Spinelli, Fair Elizabeth," the assistant called out apprehensively, leaving Jason to wonder just how much fear his wife had instilled into the house. "You have visitors as per your husband's request."

Her brow furrowed as she looked over her shoulder. "Who?"

"Johnny," Jason replied, walking over to her. "I sent for Johnny. He and I need to speak about what happened that night…And I thought some tea with Nadine would help you relax."

"My husband was stabbed," she reminded him, worry filling her face.

He grinned crookedly as he reached out to take her hand. "And he was saved by his wife."

"Forgive me for taking so long," Elizabeth said, breezing nervously onto the terrace where Nadine was sitting with Amalia in her lap. "Jason didn't tell me we were having visitors until you were already here, and I'd slept in late and-"

"It's quite alright," Nadine interrupted, smiling as she sat down across from her. "I wanted to come the day after Jason was hurt, but Johnny talked me out of it. I was worried for Jason…and for you, and I knew I would probably just get in the way, but I hated the thought of you being alone."

"I appreciate the sentiments," she replied, smoothing her hands over the skirt of her dress.

It felt strange to be in clothes after two days spent in bed in nothing but a thin night gown and she already missed the laziness that came with such; the sleeping in, the afternoons sprawled out on the bed, and the meals ate there. It was all so very intimate from the way she laid beside him to the words they shared. Of course, no life-changing declarations had been made, and it had been Elizabeth doingto do most of the talking, but the way that he listened – Well, she wasn't used to someone paying such attention to her.

"How are you?" the blonde asked nervously, bouncing the baby gently in her lap. "I can't imagine how horrified you must have been were when Johnny brought him home. I was distraught enough when my own husband didn't make it home until the next morning and he was in one, healthy piece."

"There wasn't much time to be afraid," she shrugged, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

She'd hurried to change and properly pin her curls – another daily ritual she'd tossed aside at Jason's bidding. She'd never wear her hair up again around him if it was possible, and she blushed at the thought of him whispering to her about _her_ lovely curls.

She blushed when it came to most thoughts about him.

"Johnny said you saved his life," Nadine commented in awe.

"I did what I could," she replied, feeling awkward that everyone looked at her as if she were some kind of hero. "I did what I had to do to save him." Her voice caught in her throat and she looked away, embarrassed that she was getting emotional over something that had happened days ago.

"I understand your need to be strong, but eventually you'll have to let it out," she murmured softly, giving her a weak smile. "You can't always hold it together. It's not good for you, and surely Jason doesn't want you to lie about how you feel."

Elizabeth nodded. "It's easier though," she admitted, briefly disliking how easily Nadine seemed to see right through her and the walls she put up.

Then again, the woman had her own experiences when it came to men like Jason. She appeared to know him well enough, and she was married to his best friend, so surely she had experiences she could relate to this.

"I can'touldn't imagine how I would feel if something like that had happened to Johnny. I'd be completely hysterical – I almost am at the thought of losing my husband."

"I think you'd be stronger than you think. I didn't make a conscious choice to push my emotions aside. I knew he needed me to save him, as well as that I had to save him if I was ever going to make it."

Nadine grinned widely, her eyes shinning. "I never thought Jason would find someone to take care of him. Or rather, that he'd let them. He's so independent and difficult, and he always has been, but he's different with you. He's tender in a way that I haven't seen in quite some time."

"He has his moments," Elizabeth laughed, her heart tightening at the woman's words. She didn't like the idea that she'd changed Jason, hoping instead that he had changed on his own. "But if he is only like this with me – well, I suppose I won't complain." She lifted her eyes to Nadine's, unable to fight her curiosity. "You speak as if he wasn't always so cold and alone, and I can't help but want to know how he became that way."

She sucked in a breath, her face growing flushed. "It isn't my particular truth to tell, Elizabeth."

"Oh, I understand. Please forgive me. I didn't wish to make you uncomfortable." She shook her head and looked away, completely embarrassed.

"No, it's quite alright, but – well, if I may be so bold, I think you and Jason both have secrets that need to be told to each other." Elizabeth fisted her hands in her skirt at the woman's words. "It isn't my place is all, but if you care about one another as deeply as I believe you do, then your admissions will only make the both of you stronger. He cares about for you, and I know marriage is hard and frustrating, but what you feel for another matters more than anything."

"I'm afraid I'm not too sure about that," Elizabeth admitted. She'd had the realization over and over in the past couple days that Jason would inevitably learn the truth, and there was no way to know how they would end up. "I want to have all the faith that everything will turn out the way it's supposed to, but I'm just not so sure anymore. Jason's made his feelings very clear."

She stopped, catching herself from saying more than she'd meant to. Sure, Johnny and Nadine were privy to most things in Jason's life, but were they aware that theirhis best friend's marriage was only for show? That the husband who appeared to be dutiful and doting continuously reminded Elizabeth that while he wanted her now, he wasn't sure if he wanted her forever and her truth would only reaffirm why he had such feelings. Lust was powerful enough to pull him to her in a way he couldn't understand, but it wouldn't save their connection or change the outcome of any lies.

She wasn't sure if anything could.

"If you have something to say…" Jason looked across the room at Johnny, who was leaning against the window, and watching their wives on the terrace. Elizabeth had been hesitant about him moving around, so he agreed to meet with Johnny in the bedroom. He wouldn't admit that he was relieved to stay inside the four walls; they were safe in a way that nothing else was ere and it was what existed outside them that worried him the most.

"I'm glad you're well," he murmured stiffly, further annoying Jason.

He wasn't used to Johnny being so quiet and withdrawn, and he would have never sent for him if he knew this was what it was going to be like. "Only because of my wife."

His friend's eyes lifted to his. "Have you spoken to her about what happened?"

"I gave her the runaround," he admitted, refusing to worry his wife more than he had to. It was difficult enough to admit he'd gotten into a bar fight with Richard Lansing, and that he'd been carried outside by two officers who held him while Lansing got the better of him. It was embarrassing and disgusting, and he felt guilty mostly because he should have been home with Elizabeth.

But he was _scared_.

Of being alone with her and learning her secrets – terrified that she would admit to doing what he was so sure she hadn'tdidn't, and he wouldn't be able to control his reaction.

"You have to talk to her, Jason," Johnny sighed, hanging his head. "That night – she – she knows what happened to Lucky, and I think she-"

"I'm not discussing this with you," he interrupted, glaring at him. "Elizabeth and I will-"

"You've been avoiding it all along."

"This isn't any of your concern."

Johnny arched an eyebrow as he started towards him. "Not aAny of my concern? You're trying to free her father, and I've been the only person able to help you. Without me you wouldn't have anything so this is _my_ concern because we're trying to free a man who may be covering up a murder committed by his own-"

"Stop," Jason cut in, gritting his teeth as he clenched his fists at his sides. "She's my wife. You cannot accuse her-"

"She practically confessed the night you were stabbed," he murmured, backing away when Jason flinched. "She said it was her fault and that if-"

"She could never kill someone," he defended, turning his back to Johnny as he sat down on the edge of the bed and scrubbed his hands over his face. "She just couldn't. She's too small and delicate and-"

"I think you're underestimating your wife," Johnny said slowly, eyeing his friend as he retreated back to the window, and stared down at the terrace. "She's been through so much already, and she's managed to survive. She's stronger than you think."

"I know her," he insisted, shaking his head.

He knew her heart and there was no way that Elizabeth would take someone else's life. She'd never forgive herself or be able to live with it, and she wouldn't let Jeffrey take the fall for a crime she'd committed.

"Sometimes the people we care about are capable of things we'd never believe," Johnny said sadly. "She blamed herself for what happened with Lansing. Don't you remember anything?"

He shrugged, closing his eyes as he replayed the entire evening his mind. The scene at the bar where Richard goaded him into throwing a punch, and the snide comments he made outside as he drove a knife into Jason's side. He'd said so many things; that Elizabeth had already been used, that the Webbers were nothing, and that the wrong person had been arrested for the crime.

So much of it was a blur; Johnny finding him, the ride back to the house, seeing Elizabeth in the upstairs hallway. He remembered the pain more than anything. How his side blazed with a fire that didn't feel like it was ever going to end and the tender touch of Elizabeth as her hands moved over him, desperate to save him.

There were so many voices; Spinelli, Sonny, and Johnny all mixed inside his head, and he couldn't be sure, but he was almost positive there had been an argument. He could remember the fear in Elizabeth's voice as she ordered them to leave his room, and then there was nothing but the warmth of her settling down beside him, her hand draped across his waist. She'd spoken to him softly, words he couldn't remember, or maybe he didn't want to. He could never believe what Johnny was telling him. After all, she was his wife; if she'd murdered someone he would _know_.

"Jason, I'm sorry if I've crossed a line, but-"

"You should go," he cut in, pushing himself up slowly from the bed. His eyes found Johnny's and he knew the look that passed was one of complete understanding. They were friends first and foremost, nothing would ever change that, but for now this was between him and his wife. "I'll speak to her, and I'll send for you when I've learned the truth."

Jason leaned against the doorway that led to the terrace, smiling to himself as Elizabeth quietly tended to what little mess she and Nadine had made over tea. Sonny had tried to help, but she'd sent him away, cleaning up with shaky hands, leaving Jason to wonder if she knew what was coming. They'd all exchanged tense smiles in the foyer before Johnny and Nadine left, and Elizabeth had hurried back to the terrace the moment the door was closed, fussing that Jason could go rest.

"Elizabeth."

"You're supposed to be resting," she scolded gently, looking up from the table.

"Leave that to the help," he murmured, stepping onto the terrace, his eyes squinting as they adjusted to the light.

"Jason, please," she begged, wiping her hands over the front of her dress. "Must you be so stubborn."

"I'm afraid so," he replied, sighing heavily as he glanced back at the house, relieved to see that no one was paying them much attention. "Take a walk with me."

"You know what the doctor said," she argued, shaking her head as he held his hand out. She took it anyway, her eyes softening as he linked their fingers together, nodding towards the stairs that led down towards the garden.

"Please, I could use the air," he muttered thickly, hating himself for what he was about to do. Why couldn't he simply go with what he felt and believe she had nothing to do with any of this? Why couldn't he live a lie for just a little while longer?

"If you insist," she said, nuzzling her face against his arm as she leaned against him.

"I do."

She sucked in a shaky breath, folding her trembling hand over her chest and resting it on his arm. "You don't always have to be difficult."

"Would you want it any other way?" he asked, wincing as they started down the stairs. He tipped head towards her, relieved that she was oblivious to how much he was hurting.

"You mean would I want things to be easy?" she laughed, squeezing his arm. "I suppose that would be a new feeling all in itself. What would we do with ourselves?"

She laughed again, light and airy with just the hint of uneasiness, and he was almost sure he'd never heard anything so lovely. If only they'd get rid of the uneasiness that existed between them; the foreshadowing of what was to come.

"Are you alright?" she asked, looking up at him as he bit back a groan. Her eyes darkened as she dropped her gaze, and he was relieved she wasn't going to fight him. "Is fresh air really worth such pain?"

"If it means I get to see you in the sunlight…" Sometimes he couldn't help himself; he was only a man.

"Oh, stop," she blushed, pressing her face into his arm.

She gripped him tightly as they started towards the rose bushes, and he wondered if, like him, she was thinking of the last time they'd been here. It almost made him want to do this somewhere else, but he knew if he kept his mouth shut now, he'd never say anything.

"Can I tell you something silly?" she asked softly, sighing as they came to a stop among the trellises. He nodded as she looked up at him, her cheeks still flushed. "The other night – I – there was a part of me that was terrified we'd never get to do this again." She bit her lip and looked away, and he felt her hand start to tremble in his. "I suppose there are a lot of things we'll never get to do."

"Elizabeth…" Her name fell from his lips, making him sound vulnerable and sad in a way he wasn't prepared for. He started to apologize, to take back his decision to question what he already knew, but she shook her head as her eyes rimmed with tears and gently pulled her hand from his.

"Go ahead," she whispered, folding her arms over her chest as she backed away, looking him in the eye. "I've seen the question in your eyes for days now, and I knew when Johnny arrived today he would remind you of what you may have forgotten."

He stiffened, hanging his head in defeat as he pressed on. "Ask me, Jason. Just get it over with," she begged, bursting into tears. "You can close your case. Go back to Italy. Pretend none of this ever existed."

"Elizabeth," he hissed thickly, "it's not that simple."

"It is," she argued firmly. "It's what you want, so just _ask me."_

He couldn't do it; the words lingered on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to question her in such a way. She continued to cry softly, her head in her hands, and when she finally realized he wasn't going to confront her, she started past him, her shoulder bumping hard against his.

"Fine, then I'll tell someone who wants to know. Perhaps Johnny or Richard or-"

"Stop it," he growled, grabbing her by the arm and spinning her around to face him. He jerked her hands from her face, pulling her gently towards him as he slid an arm around her, smoothing it over the back of her neck as he forced her to look at him. "Don't you understand how hard this is for me?"

"For you?" she sobbed, her eyes wide with disbelief. She tried to jerk away, but he held onto her, refusing to let her run. "Once I tell you, Jason – once you know everything, you'll have gotten what you came here for…"

"It isn't about the case," he muttered angrily.

"You'll leave. You'll do the same thing my father did to try and protect…" She hung her head, pressed her face into his chest as she cried. "I don't want to be alone again, Jason. I don't want to lose you. I can't – I…I can't."

He slipped his arms tightly around her, cradling her to his chest as she continued to sob, hating himself for doing this to her. "Elizabeth, I'm not going anywhere. I just _need_ to know," he murmured, smoothing his hands up and down her back, failing to calm her. He slid a hand around to cup her cheek, wiping her tears away with his thumb. "And I'm not asking you for the truth as part of the investigation. I'm asking you as your husband because I _need_ to know."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

_London, 1820…_

"I killed him," Elizabeth whispered, her lips trembling as she spoke and tears slid down her cheeks. "You married a murderer."

His grip loosened on her arms, his face filling with shock then horror before settling on disbelief. She remembered how her father had the same look in his eyes the night he'd come home and realized what had happened.

"No, that isn't what happened," Jason argued, hanging his head as he backed away.

"It is," she said, sucking in a ragged breath. "I _killed_ him."

It was a strange feeling to finally say the words aloudlowed, having forced herself to swallow the truth long ago, swearing to her father that she'd never let the truth leave her lips.

"You're confused," he sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face as he continued to back away. "Elizabeth, you would never-"

"You think so much of me," she interrupted quietly, folding her arms across her middle as if to brace herself up. "But you don't know me at all."

"I know you," he said firmly, his eyes looking her over, searching for that familiarity he was so sure existed. "Elizabeth…" He started to reach out to her but drew his hand back, letting it hang limply at his side. "You couldn't have done this."

"I'm well aware of what I did," she replied, narrowing her gaze in his direction. "You wanted the truth so there it is; you're trying to find the culprit of a murder and that very person is your wife."

"You are lying," he hissed, raking a shaky hand through his hair as he shook his head.

"I've only lied to you once," she argued defensively, "and it was about this, and I knew – I knew all along that eventually-"

"You're covering for someone," he insisted, refusing to listen to her. "Is it Sonny? Or was it someone else?"

"I did it, Jason!" she sobbed, clenching her fists at her sides. "You just don't want to see the truth."

"My wife is not a murderer." He stared at her, his eyes a deep pool of confusion, and she could see him trying to talk himself out of believing her. "I know you. And I know your heart, Elizabeth. You would-"

"People with the purest of hearts do the most awful of things," she whispered, wiping her cheeks with the back of her closed fists.

"You didn't-"

"You're sounding like my father. He was so insistent that I didn't do it – that it had to be someone else -, and eventually he realized I really did." She hung her head exhaustedly, fighting the desire to collapse to the ground in a sobbing heap, but refusingshe refused to do that. She had to face the consequences of what she'd done and if it was Jason taking one final look of disgust at her before he stalked away, then so be it.

It was what she deserved.

"He couldn't even look at me afterwards," she murmured, embarrassed at the amount of tears streaming down her cheeks. "You'll be the same way."

"No," he growled, starting towards her. His hand slipped out and reached for hers, but he pulled it away before he actually touched her. "I won't listen to this."

"Fair enough," she said as he stepped past her, swearing under his breath.

"I won't listen to you until you're ready to tell the truth, Elizabeth."

"Jason, it is the truth," she argued, looking over her shoulder to see him disappear around the trellis, his head in his hands. She clasped her hand over her mouth to muffle her sob as she leaned against the trellis and slowly slid to the ground.

It was worst than she imagined because instead of leaving her, he'd just left her alone.

Jason slammed his full glass of whiskey down on his desk, dropping exhaustedly into the chair as he let out a low groan. His eyes swept over the room, and he swore at the disarray; the thrown books from the shelves, the broken glass scattered across the floor, and the overturned furniture.

He was completely furious; with himself and with what had happened. He'd done the last thing he told himself he would do -; just like he always did when someone said something he didn't want to hear -, he walked away. Elizabeth's sobs followed him the entire way, haunting him as he entered the house where he informed the staff that anyone who so much as camewent near him or his wife would be fired immediately. He then retreated to his study where he played her statements over and over in his mind, focusing mostly on the way she'd wept, and how he'd left her alone.

He was a sorry son of a bitch, and he hated that Jeffrey Webber had trusted him with the most important person in his life. It had only been a matter of time before Jason hurt her more than anyone else could.

Honestly, he was surprised it took this long.

"Sir?"

Jason lifted his eyes from the glass of whiskey to glare at his assistant. "I said I didn't wish to be disturbed. Are you asking to be fired?"

"No, sir," he apologized, his hand tightly wrapped around the doorknob. "I thought you would like to know that Fair Elizabeth – she went to her room after she returned from the gardens, and she only came out a moment ago."

"I didn't ask you to look after her," he hissed, knowing that his wife had only retreated to her room to cry in private.

"I know, but…well, she sought me out and asked if she could see you."

"What?" he asked thickly, slowly pushing himself up from his chair.

"She is waiting at the end of the hall," Spinelli murmured apprehensively, his eyes widening with relief when Jason nodded, granting her admittance to the room. "Very well then."

He swallowed hard as the door closed behind his assistant, turning to face the window, his heart clenching at the thought of looking at her after what he'd done. No wonder the poor woman had been so terrified to tell Jason. – Sshe knew this was how he would react, that he would pull away, but he hoped she would see it was his own anger that sent him running.

He'd known that she killed Lucas Spencer all along; perhaps even from the very moment that he arrived at the Webber home in the city.

Like all things he didn't wish to believe, he merely shoved such assumptions aside, pretending to be baffled when his best friend started to question his wife's abilities. He couldn't imagine that Elizabeth had taken another man's life in an attempt to save her own. It was a hell of a burden to bear _– he should know –_ and someone as innocent and gentile as Elizabeth was would never be able to live with what she'd done.

She shouldn't have to, which was precisely why Jeffrey had taken the blame. He wanted his daughter to have the life she deserved, and while no man in London would so much as touch her for fear of becoming part of the gossip mill, he knew that his old friend would take care of her.

And just maybe Jason would even _love_ her.

"Jason?" He let out a shaky breath at the sound of her soft, velvety voice, turneding slowly to face her. The rims of her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks flushed, and he wondered just how long she'd been crying. Her eyes widened as they looked around the room, landing hesitantly on him, but she didn't look him in the eye. "Your hands."

He dropped his eyes to his hands, not surprised to see they were scratched and scraped in during his determination to destroy everything around him. "It's nothing."

She sighed, opening the door and calling for Spinelli, who Jason imagined was standing guard at the end of the hall. "Could you please bring me some water and bandages? Jason's hurt his hands."

"You don't have to be afraid," he muttered, sitting down on the edge of his desk, his back facing her.

"I'm not afraid of you," she replied quietly, starting across the room, careful to step around the glass and books. "I understand if you don't want to speak to me, but I feel as if I should apologize."

"Apologize?" he asked, tipping his head towards her as she made her way around the desk to stand in front of him.

She nodded, wringing her hands as her eyes settled on his. "I made so many mistakes with you. I fought you simply for the fight, continuing only because I…well, I suppose I liked it – the challenge of not being able to hide inside myself." She swallowed hard. "I – I refused to help you with my father's case."

"You were protecting him," Jason shrugged, tensing up as the door opened and Spinelli appeared. He hurried over to the desk in a hurry, setting down what Elizabeth had asked for, and quietly fleeingd from the room.

Sighing, Elizabeth stepped up beside the desk and pulled the bowl of water across it. "I was protecting him," she agreed, dipping a clean, white cloth into the water. She twisted it in her hands, wringing out the water. "But he wasn't the one who needed protection."

Jason's brow crinkled as he held out his trembling hands, knowing they both needed some kind of distraction. "So much of what I did, – of keeping things from you and giving you a hard time, was about my father," she continued, slipping her hand into his palm as she gently wiped the dried blood from the back of his hand. "That night when we visited my father, he was so happy to hear we were married, and he wanted nothing more than a wonderful life for the both of us. It didn't matter that it was a marriage of convenience and we couldn't stand one another."

She paused as she switched hands, carefully picking a piece of glass from one of his knuckles. "I think I became even more furious after that. I wanted this life that my father had imagined, and I knew I would never have it, which was partly my fault." She set the cloth back on the desk, continuing to hold his hands gently between hers as she looked him in the eye. "I was so set on honoring him and his wishes that I failed to realize I was wrong."

"You're my husband, Jason," she murmured, her eyes welling up with tears. "You've done nothing but take care of me and looked after me, and maybe you did it because it's what a husband is supposed to do."

"No." She raised her eyebrows at him. "Well, maybe at first, but bringing you here and taking care of you – I did it because I _wanted_ to. You needed someone to take care of you, and I made so much of our lives about your father. I didn't think about your feelings until I hurt you-"

"You didn't hurt me," she argued, her eyes softening as she squeezed his hands. "You forced me to face things I wasn't ready for, but…that's not what I'm trying to say." She sank her teeth into her lower lip. "You made the decision to be a husband, and I – I was so intent on being a daughter that I failed as a wife."

"Elizabeth, you didn't-"

"I should have told you the truth from the beginning. I shouldn't have let you marryied me when I had a secret so dark." She shook her head as a tear slipped down her cheek. "I should have told you the truth about what happened that night – that I was the murder-"

"Please." He shook his head, not wanting to hear her call herself anything of the sort.

"I should have honored you., and I failed to do that, and I'm sorry." She carefully lifted a hand to his cheek and stroked it with the back of her fingershand. "And I'm wondering if it is at all possible to start honoring you now."

His eyes fluttered closed beneath her touch and he lifted a hand to rest it over hers, nestling her palm against his cheek. "I won't ask you to relive what happened that night. I know the truth. I think I knew it all along, which is why I was so upset. I shouldn't have left you-"

"You needed to let it sink in," she whispered understandingly. "I'd rather you walk away than to – to just stare at me in disgust."

"Elizabeth…" He hung his head, knowing there was no way to make her understand. "What happened – what you did – he – he attacked you."

"It's more complicated than that," she admitted, sliding her hand from his cheek to his shoulder. "I – I want you to know the truth, Jason. All of it – every ugly detail, but I'm afraid-"

"Nothing will change how I feel," he interrupted, tilting his head to the side to look at her. _"Nothing."_

"Well…" She hesitated, slowly lowering herself into the chair behind the desk, her hands clenching the arms.

Jason remained like a statue on the edge of the desk, his eyes soft and patient. "Elizabeth, don't do this if you don't-"

"I have to," she interrupted, resting her head against the comfortable back. "You deserve to know since I married you into it." She closed her eyes to hold back her tears, confident that Jason wasn't lying; he would still be here when she finished, but it didn't make this any easier. "All I ever wanted was to marry for love. My father and mother had a whirlwind romance, and I wanted so badly to have just a taste of that. It was the kind of love that bled into the air and consumed you. I could listen to my father talk for hours about her and I knew from the time I was a little girl that it was all I wanted."

"Of course, marriages aren't always that simple." She paused, her lips pulled into a taut frown as she opened her eyes to look at him. "My father used to tease me that only an arranged marriage was the only way to find a suitable man for me because I was so particular. Luc – Lucky and Richard were both suitors. There were others but I didn't take to any as well as I did the two of them, but I soon realized that Richard was…I didn't like the way he looked at me. And Lucky – he – he was everything I ever wanted."

She rolled her head to the side, her eyes falling on the wall across the room. "He was funny and bright, could make me laugh about anything, and he respected my father. With Richard, it was like he always saw himself in some kind of shadow, which I suppose makes sense. After all, my father was the _first_ love of my life." She shyly shifted her eyes back to Jason, blushing when his lips twitched into a smile.

She cleared her throat and continued. "I knew almost immediately that I wanted to marry Lucky. My father respected my decision and Richard was angry, jealous in a way that was terrifying. He never said a word to my father, but Lucky admitted he said things in town, tried to goad him into a fight – but then again, that was only Lucky's word."

It was difficult to keep the facts straight, especially when Lucky had turned out to be the biggest villain of them all. She wasn't sure what type of relationship existed between Richard and Lucky and she supposed it didn't matter now anyway.

"I didn't realize it right away, but Lucky was as insecure as Richard. They're both the kind of men who need to be reminded they are wonderful, which isn't a problem by any means." She shrugged exhaustedly. "Most men like their egos stroked, I'm afraid, but they were so – persistent. Unfortunately, I didn't realize quite how needy Lucky was until it was too late."

She shifted uneasily in her chair and dug her fingernails tightly into the arms as she neared the difficult part. "It was the first snow last winter, which used to be one of my favorite days of the year. The thick, white flakes falling hurriedly from the sky and collecting in heaps – it was always so beautiful, but cold. My father was used to having visitors during bad weather, especially in the winter. He always had hot cocoa and tea ready for anyone who might stop by and that night was no different."

"Except that a mid-wife was having difficulties with a birth. She sent for my father, and he had to excuse himself from our guests, leaving me to entertain them. He was gone longer than he intended to be, and it made me worry, mostly for the new child and it's mother. Eventually the guests left completely and the help went to bed. Only Sonny was awake when Lucky arrived."

"I'd almost gone to bed. I was heading to my room to change into my nightgown when I heard Sonny talking to Lucky in the foyer, so naturally, I came downstairs. He was the most upset I'd ever seen him, and I didn't realize it right away, but he was extremely drunk. Sonny didn't want to leave us alone, but I asked him to – begged him even, and it wasn't as if we'd never been alone before. My father trusted Lucky, though he probably trusted me more, and he knew I wouldn't allow anything inappropriate to happen."

She closed her eyes as Lucky's face drifted into her mind; his dark eyes and angry sneer. They'd kept her up at night for so long that she didn't even try to push the image away anymore.

"I could see in his eyes that he'd been drinking, but like I mentioned – I – I didn't realize how drunk he was…until it was too late. I led Lucky to the kitchen, thinking food would help. My father had a terrible sweet tooth and our cook always left cakes and cookies out for him at night. Only he didn't want to eat; he wanted to argue."

She stopped, her eyes flashing open when she heard Jason move from the desk to the floor. He settled beside the chair on his knees, slipping a hand into her lap, trying hard to be there for her in some way.

"I'm not exactly sure what happened before he came to my house," she said, feeling surprisingly at ease when Jason linked their fingers together. "I know he saw Richard, and I think Lucky let his insecurities get the best of him. You see, even after I told Richard I wasn't interested, he still hung around, and it drove Lucky mad sometimes."

"He told Lucky you were still interested in him," Jason murmured roughly.

"Yes, and Lucky believed him." She shifted in the chair to turn her body towards him, and he tightened his hand around hers as if afraid she would let go. "He confronted me, practically accused me of leading him on, and I tried to assure him that I had all intentions of marrying him,. tThat plans would start the moment he decided to propose. ButAnd he was just so angry. He started yelling and I became so defensive. One moment he was badgering me and the next I – I hit him."

She shook her head in disgust. "I'd never actually struck someone before, but I was so furious. He acted as if I was some – some _whore_."

"You aren't," he hissed, smoothing his thumb over the back of her hand.

"I know that, and I knew that then, but I was just so upset. No one had ever treated me so horribly." Tears stung her eyes, and she knew the longer she held them in, the worse it would be when they fell, but she felt guilty for crying. She'd put herself and Jason in this position; being upset wasn't fair. "I tried to leave the kitchen, but he grabbed me and wouldn't let go. He said something – something about how he would treat me the way that Richard did if it was what I was so fond of."

"He pinned me against the cabinets and tried to kiss me, and I managed to stomp on his foot hard enough for him to let go." Jason sucked in a breath, his eyes widening, and she knew he was thinking about the kiss she'd told him about just days ago. "I ran away. I was yelling, hoping that anyone would hear, and the closest room with a door was the study, but he was fast and caught up with me before I could close the door. He pulled me to him again, his hands were everywhere, tugging at my skirt…and – and then everything happened so quickly."

"I begged him to calm down. I knew it was the alcohol mixed with too much insecurity – that he wouldn't have hurt me otherwise…" She tried to ignore Jason when he scoffed at her remark. "…he came at me again, and I was trying to get away. I – I fell somehow, against the desk. I tried to pull myself up but he was there and somehow I pulled a drawer from the desk. And then Sonny burst into the room, telling him to leave. I'm not sure who threwough the first punch, but suddenly Sonny was on the floor with Lucky on top of him."

She hung her head when the tears started to fall and pulled her hand from his. "It happened so quickly," she sighed, pushing herself up from the chair. Being close to him when he was trying to comfort her just felt wrong. "I saw the knife on the floor. It was my father's – an old pocket knife. I guess it was in the drawer…Sonny was screaming. No one else in the house came to help. I didn't even think about it as I grabbed the knife."

"Elizabeth…" He moved to stand beside her, but she stepped away before he could touch her.

"It was Sonny," she sobbed quietly, rubbing her hand over her face. "He's been a surrogate father my entire life. I would have done the same thing for my own father."

"No," she cried, when he started to touch her again. She tilted her head in his direction, no longer fighting her tears. "I didn't mean to do it, Jason. He was hitting Sonny…I just - I had to make him stop. So I – I stabbed him…"

She closed her eyes as she clenched her fist, remembering the way the knife fit into her palm, how easily she opened it with her fingers, and just…lunged. He'd cried out so loudly, but didone what she wanted and left Sonny alone, turning around to face her.

"The knife was still in my hand. I don't even know where I cut him or how badly…" She sucked in a breath, her chest heaving as she fought to speak. "He came at me again and I – I just held out the knife and…"

She remembered how warm the blood felt on her hands as Lucky collapsed, pulling her with him to the floor. The way it spread across her fingers,; so red and thick and sticky as his hands wrapped around her wrists, clinging to her as he gasped for breath.

"He bled to death. I stood there and I watched…I tried to stop it. I held my hands over his stomach and screamed for Sonny to help, but – but it was too late. He was dead. He died holding onto me, and it was that very same need to hold onto hemer that cost him his life."

Elizabeth finally let go, her legs giving out beneath her as she collapsed to the floor. "Elizabeth," Jason murmured, slipping his arms around her and pulling her against him. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I killed him, Jason. I took someone's life and-"

"You were protecting yourself. No man should ever put his hands on a woman – not like that," he interrupted, shifting her in his arms and cradling her against him as she cried. The tearsIt weren't wasn't out of fear or sadness over what she'd done, but that she was finally admitting it. "You did what you had to do. He could have hurt you or taken your life." He smoothed his hand over the back of her head, gently rocking her in his arms. "It's okay."

She shook her head and buried her face in his chest as she cried. "Jason, it's not. I – I should have told you. I married you into a lie and if the truth comes out – if – I just – I don't know what will happen now."

"You don't have to worry," he murmured, tightening his arms around her as she lifted her in his arms, slowly moving to his feet. She felt incredibly safe, despite all that had happened, and she wanted to believe that he could make this okay, that he wouldn't hold this against her. "I promised to fix it, and I will."

"Jason, I'm sorry," she cried softly, fisting her hands in his shirt. She curled tightly against him as he opened the door to the study, knowing Spinelli was waiting, that he too would know the truth.

"Shh, it's alright," he whispered, brushing his lips over her forehead. She cringed when he stopped to talk to his assistant. "Spinelli, I'm taking Elizabeth to bed. Make sure that _no one_ disturbs us."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

_London, 1820…_

"I'll get you a nightgown," Jason murmured, gently easing his wife from his arms and onto his bed. He tugged her slippers from her feet, dropped them to the floor as she shook her head in protest, putting her legs beneath the comforter and sliding down to rest her head on the pillow. "You'll burn up, Elizabeth."

"I'm fine," she whispered, smoothing the wrinkles out of the blanket with her hand. She sniffled and closed her eyes, and Jason couldn't help but sigh with his lack of ability to fix this. "I really am, Jason."

He nodded, scrubbing his hands over his face, telling himself she'd sound less defeated in the morning. It had been a long, exhausting day and a good night's rest would help his wife more than anything else – or so he hoped.

The entire time she was telling him what had happened the night of Lucky's murder, he could see how she replayed it in her mind, and he wondered how often that kept her up at night. How many times had he passed her room and heard her crying? And how many times had he pathetically believed she was crying over their situation?

"Jason, please," she whimpered, her eyes soft and bright in what little moon light filled the room.

"Alright," he agreed, leaning over to tug off his boots.

"You're staying?" she asked, the slightest hint of hope in her voice.

"It is my room," he murmured, walking to the edge of the bed and setting his boots onto the floor. "Unless you'd rather-"

"No," she interrupted, rolling onto her side as he came around to the opposite side of the bed. "I sleep better with…you – you near."

"Then I won't go anywhere," he said, pausing as he started to pull his shirt over his head. He wasn't sure if he could suffer beside her; there was already too much heat between them. It wasn't as if he'd never slept beside her in a lack of clothing. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all," she replied, tucking the comforter in at her sides, silently declaring her space on the side of the bed.

Swallowing hard, he climbed in beside her, settling uncomfortably on his back, before rolling onto his side to face her. "You need to get some rest."

"I know," she nodded, her eyes finding his amidst the dark room. "I just – you don't hate me?"

"I could never hate you," he answered firmly, scooting across the bed, relieved when she didn't move away. "Elizabeth what you did – you saved your life and Sonny's – don't ever feel guilty for that."

"That's impossible," she sighed, nudging towards him. "I meant more so about my father. You spoke so highly of him and I'm letting him sit in prison for a murder he didn't commit."

"Did you have a choice?" he asked. They didn't make it to the part of the story where Jeffrey found her with Lucky and the police came. Jason didn't need to hear any of that; he could piece it together well enough in his mind, and Elizabeth had already relived enough horror for one night.

"He's my father," she murmured, letting out a content sigh when Jason slipped his arm around her waist. "I begged him not to do it, but…he said I was his daughter,. tThat he had to protect me. One moment he looked at me as if he didn't recognize me a single bit and the next – the next he was putting his life on the line for me."

"He loves you," he said, trying to make it simple.

"Do you risk your own life for love?" she asked, shaking her head as she pressed her face into her pillow.

"I imagine he didn't even question it," he shrugged, shifting as she moved towards her, curling into his chest as she had downstairs. "You were the center of his world, Elizabeth. He would have done anything for you, and even when he was put in prison, all he wanted to do was protect you."

"It's not fair," she sighed, and Jason bit back a groan as she nuzzled her cheek against his bare chest. "I just wish things could be different."

"They will be," he said firmly, pressing a kiss into her curls and closing his eyes as he breathed her in. "I will fix this as long as you promise to rest."

He felt her smile against his chest. "I'll try."

"It's hot," Elizabeth groaned, rolling onto her back and tossing the covers aside.

Jason stirred slowly in his sleep, yawning as he opened his eyes to find his wife pulling herself out of his arms. She murmured something incoherently as she sat up, half asleep and moved to stand beside the bed.

"Elizabeth?" he asked, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he watched her fight with the skirt of her dress. "What are you doing?"

"It's hot," she repeated, letting out a satisfied moan as the skirt pooled at her feet.

He bit his cheeks at the sight of her bare legs glowing in the moonlight and swore under his breath when she started to take off the top half of her clothing. "I'll get you a nightgown."

"What?" she asked sleepily, tugging the material away from her shoulders.

He closed his eyes at the sight of even more bare skin. "Elizabeth," he growled, getting up from bed and leaving his back to her.

She murmured something in reply and he was starting to wonder if she was even awake. He started towards the door and noticed a shirt of his laying on the table near it. Snatching it up, he held it out to her, knowing it was best to cover her up as soon as possible. She'd been through enough already and didn't need her husband pawing her.

"Put this on," he ordered, holding the flimsy shirt out to her. He didn't look at her as she took it from his hands, just listened for the sound of the rustling material, looking over when he heard the creek of the bed as she climbed back beneath the covers.

"Jason?" she murmured, lifting her head. "Are you coming to bed?"

"Um…yes," he answered, hesitantly making his way back over. He finally looked at her, relieved to see she was covered. "Go to sleep."

"Mmhmm," she sighed, scooting over beside him as soon as he layid down. He clenched his hands into tight fists as she draped herself across his chest, sucking in a breath as he felt her breast – her _bare_ breast – rubbinged against his smooth skin. She hadn't bothered to button the damned shirt.

"Elizabeth?" he asked, his heart pounding in his chest. His only answer was the sound of her soft snoring, and he wondered if she'd been awake at all when she climbed out of bed. She'd been so defeated and exhausted after her confession that part of him was relieved she was this tired and out of it; she needed the rest.

Letting out a sigh, he fisted his hands in the comforter as she shifted against him, trying to ignore how soft and velvety her skin was next to his.

It was going to be a long night.

Elizabeth's eyelids were so heavy that opening them to the sun hurt. She grimaced in annoyance and rolled onto her stomach, burying her face in her pillow. Every part of her ached, her legs, her arms – it was as if she hadn't slept a single moment the entire night.

"Are you awake or going back to sleepbed again?"

She tensed at the sound of Jason's voice, her heart stopping in her chest as the night came rushing back to her. She was so sure her confession would push Jason away, yet he'd swept her into his arms and carried her off to bed, comforting her in the best possible way by showing her he wasn't going anywhere.

"I'm tired," she admitted, blushing when her husband chuckled slightly. Lifting her head, she cracked an eye open and looked around the room, knowing it wasn't morning. "How long have I been sleeping?"

Jason looked over from the window, where he appeared to just be staring outside. "It's late afternoon, but you tossed and turn so much-"

"Late afternoon?" she cried, rolling onto her back and pushing herself up. Her husband groaned and looked away. "Oh my God!" She threw the blanket over her chest – her bare chest – and crumpled back against the mattress. She was practically naked, and he'd seen her, and this was just – this was highly inappropriate. "Jason?"

"I didn't see much, I swear," he said thickly, hanging his head.

"Yes, but…"

"You woke up in the middle of night," he explained hurriedly, sounding as if he was worried she would blame him. "You were hot – just as I said you would be if you slept in your dress and-"

"Oh, this is embarrassing," she groaned, curling up on her side and pressing her flushed face into her pillow. "I – oh, Jason."

"It's quite alright," he laughed, his back still towards her. "I promise I didn't look…much." She tried to ignore the flutter in her stomach at his comment, but failed. "Are you okay?"

"Last night…" She shook her head, tears stinging her eyes all over again. How could he even want to look at her after what she'd told him?

"Elizabeth, please don't do this," he begged, walking over to the side of bed, where he kneeled down so he could look her in the eye. He cupped her cheek, stroking it with his thumb until her eyes opened to meet his. "What you told me – it doesn't change anything."

"Except that you're now helping to cover up a murder too," she sighed, wondering if she would ever get out of the hole she'd managed to dig for the both of them.

"I'm taking care of my wife," he said seriously, leaning over to press hisher lips to heris forehead. "Don't make this any harder than it has to be. I know what you did and why, and I _will_ fix this."

He spoke with so much certainty that it was impossible for her not to believe him. "But – but Jason," she murmured, nibbling her lip. "Where does – where does this leave us?"

"Us," he repeated slowly, the word sounding so beautiful on his lips.

"Not that there is – it's just if you fix this – if you – oh, I don't know what I'm asking," she said, frustrated with how confused she felt.

Did Jason still intend to return to Italy after this? Would he free her father? And would he leave his wife behind as some distant memory? How could he put her together – promise to be there -, knowing he was going to leave?

"I suppose – at least for now, until I speak with Johnny again about the case-"

"Johnny," she whispered, pulling away from his touch. She rolled over and pushed herself up against the headboard, careful to keep the blanket pulled over her. "Does he know the truth? Oh, Jason. How many people-"

"You can trust Johnny," he interrupted, slowly lifting himself to the edge of the bed. She noticed the grimace as he clutched his side, and she suddenly realized that all he'd done; carrying her, moving around in a rush, and trying to look after her, wasn't helping his injury by any means. "Nadine and Johnny – he doesn't keep much from her, I'm afraid, but you don't have to worry, Elizabeth. They are my oldest friends and they love your father dearly. They'll understand the truth as well as I do."

"I don't want them thinking of that night every time they look at me," she murmured, her eyes fluttering closed. "It's going to be hard enough knowing that you do."

"I don't," he argued gently, stroking her cheek again until she opened her eyes. "I see the strongest woman I've ever met. I just wish I would have realized it before." He sighed, dropping his hand from her face. "I'm afraid I've done a terrible job of looking after you. I promised to be devoted once we moved here and well, things haven't gone as planned, but I intend to change that."

"I don't need a sitter, Jason."

"No, you don't," he agreed, giving her a nervous smile. "But you asked what happened next – what there is for us..." Taking a deep breath, he looked away. "I _will_ free your father, but I'm going to need a little more time to figure things out."

"Of course," she said, feeling uneasy about where he was going with this. "Take all the time you need. I know this is hard for you to process and-"

"I've processed it just fine," he said firmly, shifting his eyes back to hers. "I just – I would like to spend some time with my wife, I think."

"I'm not sure I understand…"

"There are few secrets between us now," he replied seriously, his lips curving into a smile. "There was a wall before – be it what happened that night before or what's yet to have been said; – either way, we're easing past it now, and I want to spend time with you. No interruptions. No case. No running from each other."

She arched her eyebrow, preparing to challenge him. "Interruptions always seem to find us, and the case is quite important. As for running, do you intend on locking me in a room until you're sick of me?"

"I've sent away any interruptions for the time being," he answered, a gleam in his eye. "The case is important, but you are more important." He chuckled softly, looking her over. "And I would lock you in a room, but I'm afraid you'd get sick of _me_."

"Impossible," she argued, sitting up slowly, paying no attention to the blanket as it slid down. "I'm not sure what I did to deserve someone like you Jason."

"You're being kind. Weeks ago you hated me," he reminded her, his eyes on her face as he reached for the front of her shirt to fold it closed. "And now…"

"You're well aware of what I feel," she whispered, lifting a hand to his face and gently tugging him towards her. She pressed her lips tenderly to his, sighing against his mouth when they touched. "It's you that leaves me confused."

"Elizabeth," he murmured, resting his forehead againstto hers as he smoothed his hand up her back, gently fisting it in her loose, bedridden curls. "If you weren't such a difficult woman, you would be very aware of what I feel."

She sucked in a breath, narrowing her eyes at his. "And if you weren't such a difficult man, you would show me what exactly it is that you feel."

Smirking, he pressed his lips briefly to hers. "Don't you see, Elizabeth?" he asked, nuzzling his cheek to hers. His breath was so warm on the side of her face that she couldn't help but shiver. "That is precisely what I'm trying to do."


	21. Chapter 21

_Just a warning - it's smut. :P_

Chapter 21

_London, 1820…_

"Jason," Elizabeth whispered, closing her eyes as she held her cheek to his, raking one of her hands through the hair at the nape of his neck, while the other fell to his shirt, carefully playing with a button. She tilted her face towards his, allowing his lips to brush over his cheek bone, ever-so-slowly continuing the slow and painful assault to his mouth.

He'd known a lot of things when he first met Elizabeth; that she was annoying and loud and wouldn't succumb to him without a fight, that he wanted her more than he'd ever wanted any one else, and that she was easily the most beautiful he'd ever seen. None of which had led him to believe they'd actually make it this far; that she would be the one woman capable of pulling Jason Morgan apart with her fingertips, but that was precisely what she was doing.

He groaned against her mouth as she arched up off the bed, somehow kicking the blanket away as she moved towards him, easing herself into his lap without ever allowing their mouths to part. Her hand trembled as it fumbled with the first button on his shirt…then the next…and the next, eventually finding itself at ease and expertly undoing each one, leaving his shirt as open as hers. Only he'd refused to move his hands to hers, knowing that one long look at her creamy skin and the beauty it had to offer, and he'd never stop this. Hissing when her hand smoothed over his chest, warm and velvety against his muscles, he reluctantly tore his mouth from hers.

It was already going too far.

"Elizabeth," he panted, pressing his face into her curls and breathing her in. It wasn't fair that she always smelled so damn sweet and wonderful; a scent he couldn't quite describe,, but knew he wanted to be dive into it, and make it his own.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, slipping her hand around from his neck to cup his cheek. Her lips were plump and red, swollen beautifully by how forcefully she'd kissed him.

"No," he swallowed, shaking his head. "I just want you to be aware of what's going to happen here if this continues."

She smiled, laughed under her breath as she shifted in his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist. "Jason," she murmured, her swollen lips turning into a smirk. "I do know _things_."

"I never meant to imply you didn't," he replied thickly, sucking in a breath as she slipped his shirt from his shoulders. Her hands smoothed down his arms, fluttering lightly over his skin in a way that made him crave her touch – need it even.

"I believe there's a word for it even," she said, arching her eyebrow as she looked him over. Her lips frowned slightly at the bandage on his side, so he hurried to distract her.

"What is this word?" he asked, sliding his hand beneath her chin and drawing heris face up towards his.

"Well." She smirked again, sinking her teeth into her lower lip, forcing him to swallow another groan. "We are husband and wife."

"Yes," he agreed, closing his eyes as she leaned forward, brushing her lips againstto his cheek.

"I believe they…" He shivered, her breath hot on his ear. "They call it consummation."

"Elizabeth," he cringed, hanging his head. "Please do not say it like that."

"How else am I supposed to say it?" she challenged, moving to look him in the face, her eyes wide with curiosity. "You aren't the type of man to _make love_, Jason Morgan."

She arched her eyebrow again, silently challenging him, and he couldn't believe that she was thinking of what he considered this to be.

After all, it was supposed to be about _her_.

"Yes, that is true," he nodded, releasing the front of her shirt to cradle her face in his hands. Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink beneath his palms, and her eyes darkened instantly with desire. "But you, Elizabeth _Morgan_, are most certainly the type of woman who does."

Her lips parted to reply, but he interrupted, taking her mouth in his, and she didn't hesitate to surrender. Their tongues swirled together as she raked her nails across his shoulders, her hips arching naturally towards his, every sensual instinct she had kicking in, and he loved the way she responded without fighting it.

"Breathe," he murmured, pulling his mouth away when she started to gasp against his lips. Her head fell to his shoulder, her breaths ragged as she held onto him, obviously afraid that he would come to his senses and try to stop what they'd started.

Instead, he gently lifted her curls from her shoulder, tracing the curve of her neck with his fingertip before lowering his mouth to her skin. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulder as he tugged her skin between his teeth, knowing if he was too rough, he'd brand her, but that was precisely what he wanted to do. She was his and he wanted all of her, or at least as much as she would give, and it was clear from the way she trembled in his arms that she had all intentions of giving him what they both desired.

His tongue traced a wet, warm path to her ear, where he traced the shell, and then gently tugged the lobe between his lips, causing her to whimper. "Remember," he hissed, his hands fanning the front of her shirt open, "you don't have to be quiet. It lets me know I'm doing something right."

She nodded, her eyes slits as she straightened to look him in the eye, slowly shrugging her shirt from her shoulders. She arched her back as she looked at him, her eyes never leaving his face despite the way they dropped, drinking in her nearly bare body. He'd never seen skin so creamy, felt any so soft, and he knew that one touch, one taste, would never be enough.

He lifted his eyes to her face as he drew his hands up her sides to cup the globes of her breasts in each hand. She sighed softly, her head rolling back as he kneaded them in his palms. "Jason," she panted, her body jerking as he gently swiped his thumb over one of her nipples, watching with fascination as it hardened. He stroked the peak tenderly, smirking at how her body withered in his lap, finally deciding to take it between his fingers, pinching it softly. Her body jerked back again as she whimpered,, and he shifted to lower her against the mattress.

"Jason," she murmured again, her body arching towards him, craving his heat and touch. He eased himself over her, careful to hold his weight above her tiny form, which she made nearly impossible as she slipped her hands around him, pulling his body against hers.

He kissed her soundly, tugging her lip between his teeth, nipping and sucking as she mewed beneath him, continuing to bite back the sounds that were trying to desperately to escape. "Elizabeth," he growled, nuzzling her face, her neck, and her hair. He played with the lobe of her ear again, the warmth of his mouth eliciting a low purr. "Don't hold back. I need to know you like it." She nodded again, her eyes clenched closed as his body pressed against hers. "And just in case you really are worried, I'd like you to be loud."

"Oh, God," she moaned, her eyes flashing open, and he almost felt guilty for knowing exactly what he was doing to her.

"That's a fine start," he encouraged, dropping his mouth to the curve of her neck, where he started to trace athe slow, dangerous path to her chest. She was so soft beneath him, making it impossible not to press his chest against hers, to stop briefly in the valley of her breasts to bury his face in her skinto bury his face in her skin, stopping briefly in the valley of her breasts. Her breaths were uneven, her hands fisted in the sheets beside her, and he couldn't decide if she was scared or overwhelmed. "Are you alright?"

"Ye – yes..." She trailed off, but tried to reassure him by lifting a hand and placing it on the back of hiser head. "I suppose – I suppose I'm a little nervous."

"You don't have to do-"

"No," she interrupted, tugging his hair. He tilted his head and looked up at her, relieved to see that her eyes were as filled with as much desire as he felt. "I've – I've never done this, that's all. I would think I'm allowed to be nervous."

"You are," he agreed. He couldn't resist touching her, his hand finding its way across her waist as he nuzzled the side of her face. "Would it help if I admit I'm nervous too?"

"It would," she confessed, clearly relieved that there was some kind of understanding between them. She lifted her head, encouraging him to kiss her, and when their mouths touched, nothing else mattered. It was so damn good that if he never had anything else, it would suffice, but apparently it wasn't enough for her.

"Please," she whispered, her head falling back against the pillow as his mouth slowly moved from her lips. "Please, Jason."

He growled in response, nuzzling his way to the valley of her breasts again, where he placed a delicate kiss. Tracing the curve of her side with his fingertip, he settled his hand over her breast, squeezing the globe in one had as his lips settled over the other. Her back arched from the bed, and she fisted her hands in the sheets again as he rolled the hard peak between his teeth. Her breaths were ragged, coming in low whimpers that turned him on more than she knew, but still, he wanted to _hear_ her.

"Open your mouth," he rasped, tracing his tongue towards her other breast. "Don't hold back." She nodded again, balling the sheets into her fists, and when he heard no other sound; he couldn't stop himself from nipping tenderly at her breast.

"Jason," she panted, her eyes fluttering closed.

"That's it," he murmured appreciatively, continuing to lap at her skin, grinning as her moans and whimpers grew louder and louder. He nuzzled her stomach, kissed it softly when he felt the slow tremors building there, knew it was his touch that made her quiver like this.

Growling his approval, he slid his hands down her sides, hooking his hands in her underwear and tugging them down her legs so slow that she started to beg again. The ragged pleas of desperation and desire emerged from her lips, and all she really knew was there was something inside of her that Jason could fix, a burning he could make go away, and she needed it as fast as possible.

And so did he.

He knew there was no way in hell he'd last once he was inside her, and he throbbed at the thought of her being so tight and wet around him, so this mattered. To build her up so that she was teetering right on the edge, keeping her close so that when he went, she would too and with as little pain as possible.

Easing himself off the side of the bed, he fumbled with the tiessnaps of his breechespants, hurrying to be bare and against her, to turn those desperate pants into moans of pleasure. She lifted her head, watching him with dark eyes and a husky grin as he kicked his boots and pants off, her eyes widening as they settled over him.

"Now I'm a little terrified."

Her eyes widened as he settled back on the bed, looming over her, a soft smile on his face. "I promise you that you have nothing to fear. It will hurt for a moment, but – but I will do everything I can to replace that pain with pleasure." She nodded, arching her back in, a silent offering of herself, and he was all too willing to take it.

Their bodies crashed together, fusing with their arms and mouths, no hesitation or second thoughts; fingertips stroking smooth skin, drawing out purrs of appreciation as they rubbed against one another. Smiling against her mouth, he slid his hands over her hips and across her thighs, relieved that her legs parted easily, and he wouldn't have to coax her.

Sure, coaxing was fun, but there would be plenty of time for that later.

His fingers combed through the patch of curls between her legs, causing her to pant in anticipation, and she let out a low, sultry moan when he traced her lips with his finger, groaning at how wet she was.

"Please, Jason," she begged, smoothing her hands over his chest, kneading his muscles between her hands, hesitantly slipping them between his legs as he had hers.

"It's okay," he murmured, kissing the curve of her neck. "Touch me, Elizabeth." When she continued to be weary, he took her hand in his, brought it to his hardened shaft and wrapped her tiny palm around him. She squeezed gently, her fingers fluttering over him, and he knew if she played for too long…well, it wouldn't end beautifully for either of them.

Her grip loosened when he stroked her between her legs, swirling his fingertips over her wet curls before slipping a slender finger inside her. She bucked off the bed instantly, his name bursting from her lips, and breaking the staggering silence that had filled the room.

"Just like that," he said, pressing his face into her neck as he stroked her. "Tell me how it feels, Elizabeth."

"It's – it's so delicious," she purred, her head rolling back against the pillow. Her hips found a steady rhythm, thrusting against his hand as she moaned, each one coming out louder than the last.

"I can't wait much longer," he growled, beads of sweat pooling on his forehead. "I can't…"

"Don't," she moaned, digging her hands into his sides. "Take me, Jason."

He growled again in response, shuddering when her voice burst through the room as he slid his finger from inside her, and she continued to pant her disgust as he pulled her hand away from him, hurrying to position himself between her legs. "It will hurt," he warned, having no way of knowing just how much. "But I will try-"

"Just do it," she hissed, arching her hips towards him, craving what she'd felt moments ago. Nodding, he gripped her hips in one hand and started to slowly ease himself inside her. "Jason – no, wait."

He froze instantly, his face falling against her neck, trying to ignore how slick and tight she felt already. He wasn't sure if he'd make it the whole way. "Elizabeth…"

"It – it hurts," she murmured weakly. It made him start to pull away, but she slid her hands around his hips and shook her head. "Ignore me." He started to protest, but she thrust her hips upwards, giving him no choice, but to let go and bury himself completely inside her. "Oh, God."

He clenched his eyes closed, too afraid to movee,; worried not only about hurting her, but losing himself completely. She was tighter than he imagined, and she throbbed as much as he did, needing this, but not prepared for it in any way.

"Jason…don't move," she whispered, turning her face towards his. He felt the tears that fell from the corners of her eyes and hurried to wipe them away, his lips brushing over her forehead, the tip of her nose, the corner of her mouth.

"I can't," he apologized, his lips lingering over hers. "I have to move, Elizabeth. I can't…"

She nodded, digging her fingernails into his hips as he slowly pulled out and thrust into her. His chest tightened at the ragged, painful cry that burst from her lips, and he hurried, like he had before, to get rid of her tears.

"Don't stop," she said, her eyes clinched closed.

Reluctantly, he obliged, doing his best to focus on her. He kissed her lazily as his hands fluttered over her skin, drowning her painful whimpers as he moved.

Eventually, the whimpers subsided, pleasure washing over her as she tore her mouth from his. "Jas – Jason…"

He grinned against the slope of her breast, nipped at it, her moan reviving the stirring he'd shoved aside in his attempt to please her. "Louder," he encouraged, his hands settling over her hips as he thrust slowly and deliberately. "Louder, Elizabeth."

"Oh – ohhhh, God," she cried, her hips thrusting towards him.

"Just like that," he murmured, groaning when she clenched around him. "But louder." He eased off of her enough to slide his hand between them, his thrusts coming faster now as he moved to stroke her, his fingertip seeking out the bud between her legs. One stroke and his name burst from her lips, her body shaking below him, and she hadn't even reached her final peak yet. "Louder, Elizabeth. Tell me how good this is for you."

She moaned in response, begging him to give her more, to take more, to make this feeling inside of her burst. He growled her name, nipped at her lip as he pressed into her bud, stroking it hard and fast, forcing her to tremble and cry out below him. His name had never sounded sweeter, more beautiful, more desirable, than when it burst repeatedly from her lips as she went over the edge, milking his release as her walls clenched around him.

Despite his efforts to roll away, he collapsed onto her, her body welcoming him as she wrapped her legs and arms around him, refusing to let go. "Jason, can I ask you something?" she asked quietly, kissing his temple.

"Hmm?" he asked, exhaustedly lifting his head to look at her.

"Have you – have you ever been with…well, someone like me?" she asked shyly, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Jason's brow furrowed, not quite sure what she was getting at. Obviously the answer was no, he'd never been with someone as beautiful and amazing as Elizabeth, and he would never be again, but this was something else – something…

"A, uh, a virgin?" he asked roughly, pulling himself out of her and on his arms as he rolled onto his back beside her.

She nodded, biting her lip again, her eyes widening as he shook his head. "Never?"

"Never," he said firmly, looking at her, having never really thought about it before. She didn't look convinced. "What you have – what you are – _this_ – it's only something you have once…" He panicked, rethinking what had just happened, and couldn't help but fear that he'd taken this – ruined something – _ruined her_.

"It should be special," she murmured, rolling onto her side so that she laid eye-to-eye with him. "It should mean something."

He dropped his eyes from her face, knowing that his answer – whatever he responded with -would be full of meaning, and, weeks ago, it may have mattered. Now, everything had changed. "It should mean something," he repeated thickly, lifting his eyes back to hers. "You know that you mean something."

She smiled demurely, resting her head on his shoulder as she curled against his side. "You mean something too."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

_London, 1820…_

It was dark when Elizabeth opened her eyes, the only light in the room coming from a low burning candle on the other side of the bed. She felt silly when she thought about how they'd wasted a day, having drifted off to sleep afterwards without so much as a care. Lazily, she lifted her head, her eyes adjusting to the darkness as they settled on Jason's sleeping face. His lips were parted slightly, his face more relaxed than she'd ever seen, and as her eyes trailed over the span of his chest, she couldn't help but think that he was easily the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

Of course, no man wanted to hear that.

Jason couldn't see the exquisite beauty that lied in his chiseled chest and bright blue eyes, or even the way his calloused hands gently stroked her skin. It made her blush to think about the way he'd touched her, the sounds he drew from her body, and she really wanted nothing more than to feel that way again.

She shifted against his side, wincing as she moved her leg from across his waist, wondering briefly how she'd ended up draped across him. Briefly, she entertained the idea that sometime in the course of their napping, he reached for her.

"Oh," she sighed painfully, stretching her legs out at his side. She expected to feel some sort of pain afterwards, but it hadn't been immediatelyly, so she almost thought she was safe. Waking up now, she felt stretched from the inside out, a tightening in her stomach so stiff it made her head spin. "Hmph."

"Elizabeth," Jason murmured, yawning as his eyes fluttered opened. She'd forgotten what a light sleeper he was.

"Hi," she whispered, drawing the blanket over her chest as she groaned and rolled onto her side.

"It hurts," he said, his voice tired as he pulled her towards himthem with his arm that was slipped beneath her. "I'm so sorry I-"

"I'm not," she interrupted, nuzzling her cheek to his bare shoulder as her fingers danced across his chest. "I liked it."

He groaned, not painfully like her, but from the pit of his stomach, and she felt her stomach flutter at the sound.

Carly and Lulu had told her plenty of things about sex, which made sense seeing as they'd had enough of it, but they never told her about this; the warm feelings afterwards, the pleasure that overrode any pain. The only aspect they mentioned that Elizabeth could agree with was the desire to do it over and over.

What Jason had done to her with his hands and mouth, the way he set her free, it was a feeling she never wanted to let go of. And while naturally she'd been so quiet and shy, he pushed her to let go, and there was nothing more exhilarating than letting the sounds he created inside of her burst from her lips. He forced her to places she didn't know existed, and the way he begged for her to let go, how badly he needed her to – well, it left her wanting and needing more and more.

And quite honestly, she wasn't sure if she could ever get enough.

He groaned again as her palm skimmed over his hips, settling where the blanket rested at his waist. "Are you okay?" she asked softly, her eyes falling to the bandage on his side. She'd completely forgotten about his injury.

"Yes," he grinned crookedly, lifting his head to brush his lips to her forehead. "If you like I can have a bath made for you. I'm not sure it will help-" He stopped when he heard the low growl of her stomach. She laughed, pressing her face into his shoulder. "When was the last time you ate?"

She shrugged, shifting uneasily as she curled against his side. "Honestly…I don't remember." Tipping her head back, she gave him a nervous smile. "So much has happened…and yesterday, I was so – it was exhausting and today…" She blushed and buried her face in his shoulder.

"You need to eat," he sighed, pulling his arm out from beneath her. She tried to look away as he slid out from beneath the cover, his body glowing in the flicker of the candlelight. He was less shy with his body than she was, facing her as he tugged his robe over his shoulders, and she couldn't stop her eyes from traveling…down.

Yes, it was still very terrifying, but in an extremely good way.

"I'll go see what I can stir up in the kitchen," he murmured, leaning over to brush his lips to hers.

"Wait," she said, pushing herself up and hesitantly throwing the covers back. He looked her over just as she had him, and she couldn't say that she minded. "I'll come too."

"Are you sure?" he asked, frowning when she grimaced as she got out of bed.

She nodded, smiling softly as he came around the side of the bed with a robe for her. "My father always said you can just walk it out," she replied, laughing as Jason shrugged the robe on her shoulders, his hands slipping around to stroke her lower belly. "I suppose I shouldn't mention him at a time like this."

"They are very few things that could distract me," he murmured, nudging her hair away with hiser nose to kiss her neck. "Are you sure you don't want me to run down and-"

"No one will be awake, right?" she asked, turning around in his arms.

"If they're smart, they won't be," he replied, pressing his lips to hers. His hands slid around her waist, tracing her spine and the curve of her bottom as she pressed against him. He started to back her towards the bed butand stopped when her stomach growled again. "Food and then…" She arched her eyebrows hopefully, but saw him frown when she winced as she started for the door. "We'll see."

**********

"Mmm, this is the best chocolate soufflé I've ever had," Elizabeth murmured, licking the back of her spoon as she swung her legs back and forth on the counter. It was very improper of her, but after Jason started cooking, she could barely keep heris hands off him, and he'd sat her up there and told her not o move. What kind of wife would she have been _not_ to listen? "We'll have to thank whoever cooked for saving it."

"It was Sonny, I believe," Jason replied, gently raking her curls away from her face as he plucked the spoon from her hand to take a bite. Her face darkened slightly and he cupped her chin, drawing her lips to his. "None of that tonight." She nodded, failing to push the demons away. "Elizabeth, please don't upset yourself."

"I'm not," she sighed, sticking out her lower lip. "I'm only upset that you took my spoon." He cracked a smile as he dipped the spoon into the chocolate and brought it to her lips. He groaned as her plump lips wrapped over the soufflé, not leaving a trace of chocolate behind. "It tastes better this way."

He murmured in agreement, gently pulling her legs apart so he could step between them. She sighed as his hands skimmed beneath her robe, his fingers tracing circles on her thighs. She leaned forward, resting her head on his shoulder as his hands roamed over her skin.

"I can't remember the last time I was this content," she confessed, kissing his shoulder through his robe.

"It's good to see you so happy," he said seriously, nuzzling the side of her face.

"Are you?" she asked, sitting up and cradling his face in her hands.

"More than I've ever been, I think," he admitted thickly, looking away from her. She made it impossible to hide how he felt, and even if he didn't tell her, she would have seen it in his eyes.

"Were you happy in Italy?" she asked, scooping out another bite of the soufflé.

He nodded, and then shrugged. "It was a different kind of happy. I suppose I was at the point where I accepted what my life was, what I had given up by leaving London."

Frowning, she reached for the bowl of fruit he'd cut, and looked at him thoughtfully as she popped a slice of peach into her mouth. "What did you give up?" she asked, after she swallowed, wiping her sticky fingers on her robe.

"Johnny and Nadine mostly," he sighed, grabbing a piece of peach and holding it to her lips. She smiled as he traced the curve of her lips before she lips before parting her lipstugged and tugging it into her mouth with her tongue. "They were my oldest friends, and I left them."

"Why?" she asked, shaking her head at herself. "It's really none of my business. I shouldn't-"

"No," he interrupted, sighing as he rested his hands on her knees. "You told me your truths. I should tell you mine."

"Al – alright," she agreed, dropping her eyes to his lap. "Only if you want to. Don't feel obligated to-"

"I want to tell you, but I'm afraid it's quite embarrassing," he cut in, lifting a hand to her face and forcing her to look at him. "You would do anything for your father – for the only family you have, and I –I left mine."

She turned her face into his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm. "With good reason, I'm sure."

He nodded, torn between whether or not to agree. "Things were different then, Elizabeth. My life – I was never to be a Viscount, you know."

"Then how did you become one?" she inquired, smiling softly.

"When a man wants something he can take it," he muttered regretfully. "That's one lesson I learned from my family." Clearing his throat, he took a deep breath. "I'm not sure where to begin exactly."

"The beginning," she offered, sliding another piece of fruit into his mouth. "And take all the time you need. You were patient with me, so you deserve nothing but the same in return."

"Thank you," he said solemnly, grinning as she held a slice of peach to his lips mouth. He chewed quietly and swallowed. "I grew up as someone else; a different name, a different life. The only coordination between who I used to be and who I am now is Johnny. He has always been my friend, and he always will be."

"We used to do all kinds of stupid things. I don't remember any of them, but Johnny does. We'd steal horses and start fights in pubs just to pass the time. Typical things that a boy does, I guess. We never took things too far, and then one night – this is Johnny's version of the story. I'm afraid I don't remember it as candidly as he does. Some silly drunk at one of the pubs dared us to steal a carriage – we were drunk, had been celebrating Johnny's birthday, and we were never one to back down from a dare."

"So we did it. Stole it from this mean, old man who used to live outside of town, and he came after us – he was ready to fight us. The carriage was full of fruits he sold in town, so while Johnny drove, I was throwing them at the poor man, and like I mentioned – we were drunk. – Oone moment, we were barreling down the street and the next…there was nothing."

"You had an accident?" she gasped, her eyes softening.

"A horrible one. I landed head first in the street while Johnny got away with just a broken arm and some stitches. I was – I was taken to your father-"

"My father," she cut in, looking confused. "So you – that's how you know him; you were a patient."

"Johnny too," he confirmed. "I – I actually stayed in your home for a while. They took me straight to Jeffrey and he put me up in one of the guest rooms. I was in and out for a few months – an entire summer."

"You stayed in my house," she repeated, furrowing her brow.

"I was in and out for a few months, and when I was awake…I couldn't remember anything. Who I was. My family. Even Johnny. There was nothing. My family wasn't very receptive to that. They were wealthy. I was an heir to their fortune and they were more worried about the money, the life they had built on my existence than…"

"That's awful," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "It wasn't your fault-"

"We did something stupid. I paid for it," he shrugged, starting to pull away from her, but she grabbed his hands and tugged him back to the counter.

"Jason, they're your family. They're supposed to take care of you when you're sick and you're hurt. They abandoned you – you didn't do anything wrong."

"Not exactly." He frowned as she tightened her hands around his. "I stayed with your father that summer, and he – he and Johnny were the only people who really looked at me and saw a – a real person. Those few months that I stayed with Jeffrey – I think I learned more from him than anyone else. He was like a surrogate father to me. My family very much resented your father's role in my life – they were cruel to him. I felt responsible and I just – I was so angry. I wanted to make them pay."

"What did you do?" she asked hesitantly, lifting a hand to his face.

"I – uh – I managed to ruin them. I stayed in London for six months or so after I left your father's home and mostly with the help of Johnny's crazy father – our families had always been rivals – I wiped the Quartermaines of all their wealth. I left them with nothing, and I never really felt any remorse, except for my grandmother."

"This is their house," Elizabeth said, looking around as if she suddenly didn't want to be there. "This is where you grew up."

"Where they tried to keep me prisoner – tried to force Jason Quartermaine out as if he was hiding or something. I let Johnny's father take care of the Quartermaines. I let him swindle them out of everything with the promise that my grandmother – the only one who was kind to me – that she would be well off."

"And you left?" she asked, attempting to piece it together.

He nodded. "I didn't want any money that Anthony stole from my family. I wanted to get away. They tried to keep Jeffrey and Johnny away from me – they acted like I was a child and your father – he gave me enough money to send me away. I promised to pay him back in full, but he wouldn't hear of it. So I told him if he ever needed anything, he could send for me."

Her shoulders sagged exhaustedly. "My father sent you to Italy."

"He said he always wanted to go – that his wife was from there…"

"My mother. She was why my father loved it so much," Elizabeth agreed, her eyes shining. "And when I took to drawing, just like she did, he always talked about Italy." She smoothed her thumb over his cheek. "My father gave you a life, and he called you back for this…to lose it."

"He needed my help," Jason argued seriously. "He gave me the chance at life, but I took so much from the people who hurt me. I was bitter and young and-"

"They hurt you, and you can feel however you want to feel about that. When someone we love – we care about – you trusted them. They were supposed to be there and they weren't," she murmured, sliding her arms around his neck and pulling him as close as she could. "Jason, that must have been awful."

"I don't want sympathy. What I did was awful…"

"Would you take it back?" she asked, pulling back to look at him. "Would you change what you did?" He couldn't look at her. "Exactly. You did what you did, but they – you are right. I'd do anything for my father, but he loves me unconditionally and he'd never…" She shook her head. "I can't imagine how alone you were, Jason. The only chance you had at a life to leave was to run. That couldn't have been easy."

"It was the coward's way. I could have stayed and fought against them – made something for myself."

"But everyone would know, and if anyone knows what that kind of gossip feels like, it's me." She pulled him into another hug and pressed a kiss to his neck. "This is why you didn't push me to leave, isn't it? You know what it's like to run."

"if I had known what you weren't running from – I may have acted differently," he admitted. "But I know what it's like to be lonely – to have comfort in it and to be afraid to leave it." He slipped his hands beneath her robe and pulled her to the edge of the counter. "I was afraid after all you've done to protect your father, you wouldn't like what I did to my family."

"You took care of your grandmother – the one that mattered," she reminded him. "As for my situation, my father was protecting me – just as I'm trying to do for him, which is what your family should have done."

"I think you have too much faith in the kind of man I am," he sighed, brushing his lips over her forehead.

"No," she corrected, arching her eyebrow. "I just see the man you really are, not some distorted image you have in your head."

"Likewise," he murmured softly. "I wish you could see the woman I see."

"Well, you hit your head pretty hard," she teased playfully. "I don't suppose such an opinion counts."

"You're a terrible woman," he muttered, lifting her legs to wrap around his waist and hoisting her into his arms.

"Making me quite suited for an equally terrible man," she laughed, reaching to snatch the bowl of fruit from the counter. "For later."

He chuckled and started out of the kitchen, his lips on hers. "To bed, wife?" he asked slyly, opening his mouth as she held up a piece of fruit.

She grinned. "To bed, husband."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

_London, 1820…_

"I have a question," Elizabeth murmured, rolling onto her side to face Jason, who was lying beside her, the bowl of fruit resting on his stomach.

She'd hoped when they came to bed it hadwould be been to do other things besides eat, and they'd coey came quite close;, tumbling around in the sheets, their hands roaming over one another in the dark, but when she'd stiffened, felt the familiar, burning pain, Jason pulled back, worried about hurting her again. Before she could protest, he was on her again, his mouth moving over her body, moving lower and lower until he did things with his mouth that she didn't know was possible. It left her so exhausted that she thought she'd melt into the mattress, and she was secretly awaiting her chance to return his sentiments.

Of course, she had no idea what to do exactly, but something told her Jason Morgan was the type of man who had no problem giving instructions.

"Hmm?" he asked, easing the bowl off his stomach as he rolled to face her.

"Why don't I remember you?" she asked seriously, smiling tiredly when he held out a slice of peach, tracing her lips before sliding it into her mouth.

"You don't?" he asked, arching an eyebrow, his mouth torn between a grin and a frown.

"Should I?" she asked, chewing slowly, biding her time. "Your accident – it would have been what – ten years ago?"

"Ten years and four months," he answered quietly, his eyes darkening. They looked almost menacing in the candlelight that filled the room, but she knew differently, and the fiery gaze only drew her closer to him.

"I was young then," she blushed, dropping her gaze to the sheets. She hadn't thought about how much older he was, how she was practically a child when he'd been in her home. "Only twelve or thirteen."

"You grew out of your awkward phase," he teased, gently shoving her curls from her face.

"Am I supposed to remember you?" she asked, feeling embarrassed. She just didn't know how she could not recall his face.

He shrugged, poking around in the bowl. "You spent the summer at your grandmother's. If I remember correctly, she was ill. You tended to her for a few months and then came home. I left a week or so after your return, so…" He sighed, biting into a slicebite of peach and wiping his chin with the back of his hand. "I thought you would. You're so keen with details."

"We met," she said in disbelief, nibbling her lip. She could see in his eyes that he _wanted_ her to remember, and she worried that there was something more, something she was missing.

"Briefly," he nodded, grinning as he chewed. "Honestly, from the way you looked at me the first night I came, I thought you might have remembered."

"I'm afraid I've forgotten," she admitted sadly, closing her eyes as she tried to remember.

That summer had been so long, so dreadful with her sick grandmother and being away from her father for so long. She missed him every day, but knew she had to stay. She still felt guilty with how she waited for her grandmother's death, anxious to return to the city, but her grandmother lived well into the following summer, and one more after. It was as if she wasere trying to repay Elizabeth for all those awful thoughts she had.

"It's nothing to feel bad about," he said, cupping her cheek in his hand and stroking it with his thumb.

"Jason," she sighed, her eyes fluttering open, "you're hardly forgettable." She laughed at her confession and leaned into his palm. "I'll remember. I know I will. It's the least I can do for…" She shrugged, not wanting to bring up everything he had told her in the kitchen. They weren't focusing on her secrets, so it didn't seem fair to bring up his.

"What?" he pressed, dropping his hand to the curve of her neck and gently running his hand down her arm. He linked their fingers together and lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing her lips to his skin.

"I feel as though I should remember," she murmured, smiling when he kissed her hand again. "You were so open with me." Nibbling her lip, she lifted her eyes to his. "I just hope this doesn't jeopardize my chances of that happening again."

"It's difficult for me to admit what happened then – to explain how ugly I was," he replied, his lips tightening in a frown. "But – well, there shouldn't be any secrets between us, Elizabeth."

"You trust me," she said softly, squeezing his hand.

"How could I not?" he asked seriously. "I only wish to return the same sentiments you've given me. I have a much harder time letting go, I'm afraid."

"Perhaps all you need is a little encouragement," she whispered, inching closer to him so that the only thing separatinged them was the bowl of fruit. Pulling her hands from his, she grabbed a slice of peach from the bowl and brought it to his lips. "I wish…" His lips curved in a smile as she traced them with the tip of the slice. "You could be as free as you make me feel."

"That's a different kind of freedom," he said slyly, his eyes darkening.

"It may be the best kind," she replied, slipping the fruit into his mouth. She gasped in surprised when he nipped at her finger, his tongue snaking out to lick the tip of it. "You wouldn't allow such." She traced his tender mouth again, her fingertips making their way down the side of his face, his neck, and coming to rest on his chest. "I know it sounds silly, but I only want you to give me yourself the same way I did you."

"I think you're trying to seduce me," he rasped, swallowing hard. He sucked in a breath when her hand moved to his side, her palm smoothing across his hip until she reached his bare thigh.

"You might like it." She eased herself up off the bed and gently tugged the cover away. "If you'll give it a chance."

"Elizabeth, I wish you would wait. You're already sore-"

"The pain is worth the pleasure," she interrupted, fighting a grimace as she moved to push him onto his back and straddle him. Grinning, she wiggled her hips. "See? It's not as bad as you think."

"No, it's not," he murmured approvingly, his eyes sweeping over her delicate form. Normally, a gaze like that would have made her blush and look away, but this time it reignited the flame that burned low in her belly.

His hands slid up her thighs, squeezing gently as she pressed herself into him, gasping when she felt him slowly harden beneath her. "Does this mean you'll let me have my way with you?"

"Elizabeth," he growled, his back arching as her hands pressed into his chest, molding his skin with just the right amount of roughness beneath her palms.

"I only want to make you feel as good as you made me," she whispered, running her hands up to his shoulders to brace herself as she leaned forward. Her silky curls tickled his skin as she moved over him. "And I think I'd like you to be loud too."

His eyes widened and she took his mouth in hers before he could reply, kissing him slowly, her hips bucking against his when he sank his teeth into her lip. "Uh-uh," she scolded, pulling her mouth away from his.

Shrugging, he lifted his hands behind his head and laced his fingers together. "If that's how you want it, Elizabeth Morgan," he said roughly, "then I'm yours."

Taking a deep breath, she lowered her mouth to his, only this time the kiss was rougher, harder, and when she slid her teeth across his lips, he let out a throaty growl that caused her to moan. "Louder," she murmured, laughing softly against his mouth when he groaned again. She nuzzled his face with her cheek, her lips blazingtracing a lazy trail to his ear where she traced the lobe with her tongue, trying to remember his movements, the way he touched her, because surely that was how he _wanted_ to be touched too. "Jason…"

"Hmmm?" he mumbled, gasping when she nipped his earlobe, her breath hot against the shell of his ear.

"Louder," she teased, pressing her hips into his, and chuckling when he bucked off the bed, pushing himself against her. He felt harder than she remembered, warmer, and she fought the instant desire to feel him immediately, to experience the same tightness, the hot friction she'd felt before. "I plan on taking my time."

"I have no intention of stopping you," he whispered, panting softly.

"Do you think I'd let you?" she challenged, tracing an intricate path with the tip of her tongue. She lapped at the curve of his neck, suckled at his fiery skin, her mouth inching its way to his chest. "Mmmm." She rubbed her cheek against his skin, reveling in the smoothness of his muscles. Pressing her lips against his skin, she gasped, surprised by how warm his chest was to her mouth, and the heat of her breath caused him to let out another throaty groan.

She lifted her head to look at him, watched the way his mouth curved in a smile as she caressed him, how his lips parted slightly when she kneaded his muscles in her hands. Grinning, she lowered her lips back to his chest, her tongue kissing him lazily, moving over his nipple, as she and raked ing her teeth over the hardened tippeaked. He swore, the most delicious of dirty words she ever heard, and she repeated her movements, her stomach tightening when her name came raggedly from his lips.

Stiffening, she started to pull away when a hand came from behind his head, and she was sure that he was through with letting her have her funway with him. Instead he smoothed his hand over her head, tangling his finger in heris curls, and lowering her face back to his chest. She took his cue and returned to her slow assault, carefully moving down his chest when he gently pushed her, his fingers tightening in her hair.

Her tongue snaked over his belly button, her hands slipping down his sides to rest on his thighs. "Elizabeth," he groaned loudly, his hips lifting from the bed as her breasts brushed against him, her mouth moving lower and lower. She hesitated briefly as she loomed over him, swallowing hard when he twitched, her stomach tightening.

Shaking her head, she ducked her head, pressing a delicate kiss to the tip of his length as she brought a hand up to wrap around it. He groaned again, twitching in her hand as she squeezed, stroking him in her warm palm. He was warmer than she remember, like crushed velvet, and she couldn't help but admit that it all still terrified her– but in a _very_ exciting way.

"Elizabeth," he repeated, his fingers still tangled in her curls. "You don't have to…" He trailed off as he watched her lick her lips, her plump lips parting before lowering her mouth over him. He swore again, his hips bucking from the mattress. Taking her time, she moved her mouth over him, reveling in how smooth he felt against her tongue, how sweet he tasted.

"Yes, like that," he hissed, tugging her hair as she swirled her tongue around him. She grew bolder and bolder, tightening her lips as she moved up and down, holding him tightly in her fist. "Elizabeth…" Her stomached tightened when he said her name, and she knew he was almost to the delirious peak that he had forced her over, and that she had brought him there. "I can't…"

"Jason!" she cried out, as he tenderly pulled her away and flipped her onto her back, his mouth taking hers before she could stop him. She tasted him in heris mouth, groaning at how he seemed to taste even sweeter. She was immediately caught up in his hands and mouth as they moved over her. Panting, she tossed her head to the side to catch her breath, her chest heaving. "You weren't supposed to-"

"Pleasure works both ways," he interrupted, resting his elbow beside her head, his other stretching across the mattress. His hand returned with a piece of fruit, and she looked over to see that he'd knocked the bowl over when he turned her onto her back. "It's not just give and take." He pressed the peach to her mouthlip, pinching the slice so that juice trickled across her lips. "It's give _and_ give. _Together_."

His lips crushed hers, their tongues fighting one another to taste the sweet fruit, battling to please one another. She closed her eyes as his hands skimmed over her, fisting her own in his hair as his mouth moved over her chest. His mouth was so warm, so wet against her, and she knew there were things that would feel better than this.

She was vaguely aware of him shifting over her, and when she opened her eyes again, she found him gazing at her with a devious glint in his eye. "I didn't think this could be any sweeter," he murmured, tracing the slope of her breast with the end of the peach slice. "That you could taste any better." Grinning, he squeezed the slice between his fingers, and she gasped as the warm, sticky juice spilled over her, his head dipping immediately to lick it away. "Mmmm."

His hands moved over her thighs, shoving them further apart on the bed. "Actually," he whispered roughly, "this may be the best peach I've ever had."

Her eyes shot open when she felt the smooth curve of another slice press against her – slide into her, and she knew it should have been wrong, dirty even, but she only wanted more and more. "Jason, please, I can't…" She trailed off as she watched him bring the slice to his lips and suck it slowly into his mouth. Grinning, he lowered his mouth to hers, and immediately, their mouths fought to taste. He won out when he pressed against her, slowly inching his way inside her. Lifting her hips from the bed, she slid him in further, pressing her eyes closed when she felt the familiar burning burst through her, like she was being spread from the inside out. "Oh, God…"

"Elizabeth, I-"

"No," she cried, digging her nails into the small of hiser back and doing her damnedest to lift herself so he would slide into her. Giving in, he collapsed against her, sank into her completely. She bit her lip, clenched her eyes shut, and waited for the pleasure to replace the pain, urging him on with her moans.

His hands stroked her thighs, easing them over his arms as he cupped her bottom, squeezing her gently before sliding them up to rest on her hips. Pleasure ripped through her when he pushed her legs up, his length pressing against all the right places, and soon it was only the sounds of their cries, each louder than the last, as if they were trying to out do one another, was all that filled the room.

She kept her eyes opened, watching the way his face slacked with each other throat, his shoulders slumping as every slow tremor built inside him. "Jason," she panted, her hands cupping his face as he thrust into her. "Op – open your eyes."

He growled in reply, his lashes fluttering open to reveal a deep, pool of blue, and that was the last thing she remembered seeing. His hand slid over her belly, his fingers pressed into her, forcing her over the peaek she'd wanted to cross with him, and there was nothing but sparks behind her eyes. She was still floating, still caught up in her release when he went over the edge, his forehead against hers as he raggedly whispered her name.

"No," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him when he started to roll away. Fortunately, he didn't fight her and collapsed against her, his body partly braced on his arms whichthat were on either side of her head. She snuggled against him and buried her face in his neck, desperately wanting to know if he felt like she did – if this was something he wanted forever.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

_London, 1820…_

"Elizabeth," Jason murmured, nuzzling her curls from the side of her face and pressing his lips to her cheek. "You have to wake up."

"Mmmm," she groaned, shoving her face against the pillow and shivering when he curled his body next to hers. "It can't possibly be morning yet."

He chuckled against her ear, igniting that familiar fire in her belly. "It's early afternoon, and I'm afraid we're going to have company for dinner."

"What?" she asked lazily, lifting her head and yawning. She rolled onto her back and stretched out, trying to ignore the way his eyes moved over her when the sheet slipped down her body. "How long have you been awake? Don't you ever sleep?"

"We can't all afford to lazey our days away," he teased, brushing his lips over her forehead as he stretched out beside her – fully clothed.

She was tempted to point out that something was very wrong with this situation, but wasn't sure if she had the energy to go yet another round with him. "You've left me completely tired and not given me proper rest," she reminded him, sitting up slowly and tugging the sheet around herself.

"I do believe someone else started this whole ordeal last night," he pointed out, running his hand up and down her back. "If you'd like to rest a while, you may, but I thought you would want to know that we'll have company later."

"Company?" she asked, embarrassed that all she wanted to do was curl up in bed and stay hidden away. She honestly hoped that when Jason spoke of them spending time alone it would be longer than this. "Jason, I-"

"Johnny is coming for dinner, Nadine too, and maybe the boys," he cut in nervously, pulling himself up beside her. "I promised to send for him when I knew – when things fell into place about what happened."

"I don't understand," she murmured, easing herself to the side of the bed and sliding to her feet. She pulled the sheet with her as much as she could and tried to wrap it around herself. "What was all of this? A distraction?"

"No, it's not like that, Elizabeth," he answered seriously, getting up from the bed. "I told you that I just wanted to spend some time with you, for us to – to not have to deal with this – our pasts and secrets. I wanted us to-"

"To what?" she interrupted, pulling the sheet the rest of the way from the bed and tucking it safely around her tiny body. "To do this and then go back to the case as if this – this what – hadn't happened? Forgive me, Jason, but I'm confused. One moment, you want to steal me away and now you're thrusting us back into this whole mess."

"First, I wouldn't think that I would have to tell you there is no possible way of going on as if none of this hadn't happened," he said slowly, reaching out to smooth his hands up and down her bare arms. "I wanted us to have time to let go of this. I wanted you to know – to show you that what happened to you – what you did – it doesn't change how I feel in the slightest way."

She smiled softly and dropped her gaze to the floor. "It's rather nice to hear you say that, but I – things are going to move rather quickly from now on, aren't they?" she asked hesitantly, knowing that whatever they felt inside this room wasn't going to stop what was happening outside of it.

"Johnny wants to discuss the case with me. You don't have to meet with him unless you'd like to, but he is right. We have to figure this out now that we know the truth," Jason said seriously, easing her onto the edge of the bed and sitting beside her.

"I'm mostly nervous," she admitted, wringing her hands in her lap. She leaned into him as he slipped his arm around her. "It was difficult enough to tell you the truth, but to know that Johnny knows. Nadine, too. Your eyes are different." She nibbled her lip as she looked up at him. "I can see that you don't look at me any differently, that you want to protect me and fix this, but I…"

"I assure you they only want to help your father too," he replied, gently rubbing his hand up and down her arm. "Johnny is an incredible friend, the best I've ever had, and he would do anything for your father. As would, Nadine."

She nodded slowly, picking at the sheet. "She was a patient too," she murmured slowly. "I remember her. She was there at the end of the summer when I returned from my grandmother's."

"That's how Johnny met her," Jason said quietly, his lips curving into a smile. "Well, he met her before she was in your home. Actually, he brought Nadine to your father."

"That doesn't sound very good," she commented, remembering how Nadine had stayed in one of the empty rooms, mostly keeping to herself. "What – what happened to her? I remember she wasn't there for long and…well, it's not really any of my business, I suppose."

"No, it's not," he agreed seriously, "but I doubt she'd mind you knowing. If anything, it may help you understand why she and Johnny wish to help you and your father." She nodded hesitantly, silently urging him on. "She had an experience similar to what happened between you and Lucky, only she wasn't so fortunate."

Elizabeth's eyes widened as she gasped, dropping her gaze back to her lap. Suddenly everything fell into place; Nadine being so kind to her, so understanding, so determined to make her feel as if everything was alright. "And Johnny found her?"

"Yes," he answered shortly, not elaborating, so she didn't ask any further questions. It was Nadine's secret to keep, and Elizabeth knew that Jason only told her because their situations were similar, and that Nadine probably would tell her eventually herself.

"She was there the same summer as you?" she asked, her cheeks flushing.

Part of her night was spent trying to remember Jason, and she was starting to wonder if he was playing some sort of trick on her because she couldn't remember him at all. She imagined that an accident like his, a wealthy boy losing his memory, would have made the papers in some way, but she hadn't the slightest memory of any of it.

"Yes, she was," he answered with a nod.

"I still don't know why I'm failing to remember," she sighed heavily, shaking her head at the amount of truths that had come out in the last few days.

"Get some more rest," he murmured, kissing her temple as he eased his arm from around her. "I'll wake you a little while before they arrive, and you'll have plenty of time to get ready for dinner."

"That sounds wonderful," she admitted, giving him a tired smile. "Though it'd be better if you were with me."

He laughed, getting up from the bed as she scooted over and curled up on her side. "Then you wouldn't get any sleep."

**********

"So, that's everything?" Johnny asked, rubbing his hands over his face as he looked across the desk at Jason.

"That she told me," he replied, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the edge of the desk. "I don't want to push her into telling me things. She fell apart just from admitting the truth."

"There are still things missing," his friend sighed, raking a hand through his hair.

"I know," he agreed, not wanting to have to question Elizabeth about the pieces missing from her story. He wanted her to come towith him with the bits and pieces as she grew more comfortable; forcing her to talk about this was only going to hurt her.

"We don't have much time," Johnny pressed, raking a hand through his messy hair. "I know this is difficult, but…we have no idea when Lansing is going to follow through. He could decide today and by tomorrow Jeffrey would be…"

_Dead._

If they didn't manage to pull the story together, to find a way to prove Jeffrey's innocence without turning in Elizabeth, the man they cared so much to protect was going to die.

"I don't think Lansing wants to kill him," Jason murmured quietly, slumping over the desk and hanging his head. "I think he wants her to confess."

"He knows?" he asked confused.

"I don't know," he shrugged, "but if Lansing has some sick obsession with Elizabeth…" He was disgusted by the thought of that man wantinghaving her, let alone havingwanting her, and he couldn't even think about the possible outcomes.

"The deal he offered Jeffrey," Johnny filled in, sounding as turned off by the entire set up as his friend. "Except that Elizabeth is married to you now. There's no way he can strike some sort of deal for her hand in return for her father's freedom. And could you imagine the scandal this would create in the city? Everyone would know that Elizabeth married him to free her father, and she'd become some sort of twisted-"

"I don't want to think about it," Jason interrupted firmly, his stomach churning. "You are right though – with Elizabeth married, there's no way for him to hold something over her."

"Unless you're correct in him wanting her to confess," he offered exhaustedly. They were both trying to put something together that would make sense. "Elizabeth confesses. Jeffrey is free. And she has to do Lansing's biding if she wants her own freedom."

"She wouldn't do that," he replied flatly. "She'd rather rot in jail, I believe, which is why this doesn't make any sense. What is Lansing waiting for if he knows the truth?"

"That's if he knows," his friend murmured, scrubbing his hands over his face. "We don't have a choice, Jason. I know you want to make this as painless as possible, but we have to talk to her."

Nodding, he got up from the desk and walked to the door, already regretting going along with this. She was terrified enough of Jason's friends seeing her as some kind of murderer and if Johnny started questioning her…

"I'll ask the questions, and you can listen as long as she says it's alright. I won't make this any more difficult," he said firmly, opening the door to the study and calling toat Spinelli who was standing at the end of the short hallway. "Can you please ask Elizabeth come down here? If she's not too busy with Nadine."

"Right away," he nodded, turning and heading towards the opposite side of the house.

Jason and Johnny had left the women to keep one another company while they went over things, and even then, he could see the fear in Elizabeth's eyes at being alone with Nadine. He'd hoped being with around her would lessen Elizabeth's worries. Nadine was the least judgmental person he'd ever known, and she would surely be willing to help them in any way after learning what had happened that night.

It was just too close to home for all of them.

"Thank you, Spinelli," he heard Elizabeth murmur softly as they appeared at the end of the hall. She gave him a weary smile before starting towards Jason, her dark blues eyes clouded with the same nervousness he'd left her with. "Sonny said dinner will be ready soon."

"This will only take a moment," he replied, motioning her into the study. He reached out and brushed his fingertips over her hand as she passed, and her mouth curved into a timid smile at his touch. "I know this is difficult, Elizabeth, but we wanted to ask – _I_ wanted to ask you a few questions."

"An interrogation?" she sighed, wringing her hands as she looked between the two men.

"No, not at all," Johnny cut in, before Jason could reply. "We only wish to know about Lansing the night of your father's murder. What he did. What he said. What he _knows_."

"Oh," she said softly, dropping her eyes to the floor. "Well, I…" She swallowed hard, relaxing only when Jason stepped up beside her, and slipped his arm around her. "Everything happened rather quickly. Honestly, I don't even know who called Richard."

"It's alright, take your time," Jason murmured, running his hand up and down her arm.

"My father came home – it was as if he _knew_ something was wrong," she started, lifting her eyes to Jason's. "No sooner than I attempted to explain what happened…Richard was there, and my father was confessing. Sonny – he pulled me out of the room before Richard arrived, saying that I needed to wash up. It was as if he and my father knew immediately what they were going to do. They didn't even discuss it."

"When I came back to the study, Richard was there, and he looked at me with this…smirk," she continued pulling away from Jasonhim. She walked over to the chair beside Johnny and slowly sank down. "You know that he'd seen Luc – Lucky that night. That he'd gone to the pub and purposely gotten a rise out of him. Richard knew that he'd been drinking – that he would come and see me. He preyed upon his insecurities and those insecurities ended up kill – killing him."

"Does he know that you did it?" Johnny asked, ignoring Jason's glare. He was trying to be patient with his friend, but Johnny was going back on what they'd agreed upon before talking to Elizabeth. "Did you tell Richard or anyone-"

"No," she interrupted, her eyes filling with tears. "You, Jason, Nadine, and Sonny – well, Spinelli, too, I suppose." Shaking her head, she rubbed her hands over her face. "More people are finding out. A secret grows faster than-"

"No one else is going to know," Jason interrupted, kneeling down beside her and reaching for her hand. "We're going to keep anyone else from finding out, but…but we need to know if Lansing knows."

"What do you think?" she asked quietly, staring at her hand as it lay in his. "Why else would my father have acted so irrationally? Anyone who knows Jeffrey Webber knows he would – would die before hurting someone. And Richard – he took one look at the blood stains on my dress, at the faint stain on my hands – there wasn't time to clean me up completely, and I know – I could see it in his eyes."

"I do believe that's why my father stepped in," she continued. "He saw what I saw, and the moment that Richard mentioned making all of this go away.… There was no time to explain what had happened, to claim I was defending myself…My father stepped in, said he murdered him. He all but signed a written confession."

"Did he offer to?" Johnny asked, looking at Jason apologetically when he glared at him again. "Elizabeth, forgive me. I'm not trying to make this any harder on you, but I – but we think that Richard…" He trailed off, clearly not sure whether or not he was supposed to make her privy to their assumptions.

"What?" she asked, turning towards him, her eyes wide. "What do you think he's going to do?"

"He could have taken this to trial immediately," Jason answered hesitantly, "but he didn't. Instead he's leaving your father to rot in prison, and we think that perhaps he's waiting for you to confess. The idea of your father being there is eating at you – we know it, he knows it, and we're thinking that maybe he wants you to come forward because then he'll get what he wants."

She furrowed her brow as his words sank in, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "You mean me. He wants me still, after all this time, after I chose someone else."

"You know that he was willing to exchange your father's freedom for…" It hurt him to actually say the words. "For your hand."

"Yes," she whispered, sucking in a breath. "And I – I would have done it, but my father made me promise not to. You see, when my father first went to prison, Richard allowed me to see him once a week for the first month or so."

"Probably hoping that your father would give in and demand that you marry him," Johnny muttered disgustedly.

"Do you think that's true?" she asked, her eyes welling with tears as she looked at Jason. "Do you think my father knew that was what he wanted?"

"Most families do whatever it takes to secure the family name, line, and wealth," he replied seriously, thinking of his own experiences. "Your father is a rare case because you were everything to him. He'd exchange his life for yours as long as it meant you'd lived the life he always wanted for you."

"So…so what happens now?" she asked, linking their fingers together and squeezing his hand tightly. "If Richard is waiting – I'm married now. Everything that he wanted from me is non-existent."

"Exactly," Jason agreed, taking a deep breath. "Basically, we're waiting on him to strike. He tried to play intricately, using your father and your – well, he has nothing left to use, I'm afraid. He'll never get to you. I won't allow it, but-"

"He can get to me by using my father," she cut in, chewing her lip. "So, we – we're waiting. That's it?"

He nodded, tightening his hand around hers. "For now."

**********

"Are you okay?" Jason asked, lowering himself into the chair beside his wife as they sat on the terrace after dinner.

She shrugged exhaustedly, her gaze falling onto the sleeping child that lay in the crook of her arms. Dinner had gone as smoothly as possible with three young boys sitting at the table. Now they were running chaotically through the house while Johnny and Nadine attempted to gather them up to take home. They'd left Amalia with Elizabeth, who felt awkward and wrong for holding something so pure and innocent in her hands. The same hands thatwho had given them a reason to be together like this.

"Honestly?" she asked, stroking the infant's cheek with the back of her hand.

"Yes," he encouraged, sliding his arm over the back of her chair, his fingertips grazing her neck.

"I'm terrified," she admitted, tipping her head towards him. "This entire incident – it's impacted everyone and everything. Instead of helping me, you should be turning me in."

"You did _nothing_ wrong," he said through gritted teeth, and she couldn't help but to be comforted in knowing he was just as distraught as she was.

"I killed someone," she replied, grimacing at speaking such words in front of a child. It didn't matter that Amalia couldn't didn't understand. Something like this should never touch a child in any way. "My father is taking the blame, and Richard wants me to come forward, and I – I can't imagine what is going to happen. How will this end, Jason?"

"I promised you I would handle this," he replied softly, scooting his chair towards her. Leaning over, he brushed his lips against the side of her face. "You killed someone because he was going to hurt you. You saved yourself and Sonny, and if Richard refuses to see what really happened that's on him, but I won't let him hurt you."

She nodded, trying not to imagine what the outcome was going to be. Jason was so determined to save her that it could possibly ruin him, and she knew that if it came down to choosing between his life and her own, he'd sacrifice himself, and that terrified her more than anything.

"Promise me," she murmured, looking him in the eye.

"What?" he asked, his eyes darkening.

"That if there's no way out – if you cannot free my father," she said, her heart tightening at the horrible thought. "If you can't save him or me, you won't risk yourself in the process."

"Elizabeth, I made a-"

"I haven't asked much of you," she interrupted seriously, shifting the baby in her arms when she cried out in her sleep. "In fact, I feel as if I've been rather understanding of what you want. I'm only asking for the same in return. My father is risking his life already. I won't have my husband doing the same."

"Very well then," he growled, leaning back in his chair and looking out across his land. His face was tighter, his body stiffer than she'd ever seen, and she knew this was hurting him as much as to make the promise as it was her to think about the possibility of him taking the blame. "On one condition."

She should have known he'd give her an ultimatum. "I suppose I'll have to comply."

"No matter what happens," he said, continuing to look straight ahead, "whatever the outcome of this may be, you leave London." Gasping, she started to stutter, but he cut her off before she could start an argument. "I want you to leave all this behind, Elizabeth. You could have a life anywhere else that you wanted."

"But what I want is – is here," she insisted. "How can you-"

"What you want is your father," he interrupted, "and you can have him anywhere."

"Well, yes, but…" She wasn't sure how to explain that she wanted Jason too, that she couldn't imagine being anywhere without him, but she was well aware that regardless of what had happened between them, they only existed for this moment.

"Yes?" he pried, smiling faintly as he dropped his eyes to the baby.

"I can't help but be curious as to, well, to where you'll be," she confessed, gently rocking the infant. It felt odd to discuss the future when the present was so vague. "After everything is over."

"Where would you like me?" he asked roughly, sounding embarrassed by the question.

"I'd like you," she started, "to be wherever you want to be, and if that is with – without me thean-"

"Do you want children?" he cut in gently, grinning as he reached over and ran a finger through the child's dark, silky hair. "I asked you before, when we first married and-"

"I told you things were different, and-"

"You could be with child right now," he pressed, slowly lifting his eyes to hers.

"Jason," she gasped, looking away, a deep blush tinting her skin. Was this something he wanted? Or was it a necessary conversation? A truth that couldn't be denied despite what either of them wanted.

"I know," he sighed, dropping his hand back to his lap, his eyes gleaming in a way that made her uneasy. "We have a lot to figure out."


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

_London, 1820…_

Elizabeth Morgan could quite easily be with child. The thought was so unbelievable, so unnerving, so impacting, that it made her stomach churn. There was a time – prior to last winter, to bloody hands, and nightmares – that having a child, – being a wife and mother, was all she ever wanted, but this was not how it was supposed to be.

Her marriage wasn't supposed to be one of convenience, one done out of a favor to her father, and surely, she wasn't supposed to actually end up caring for her husband. Her role was to remain dutiful and quiet while Jason worked diligently to prove her father's innocence. There wasn't supposed to be this many complications.

Jason didn't marry her with the intentions of loving her. Though she couldn't say much about the bedding part because he was a man, and Lulu and Carly always warned her that they only wanted one thing, and Elizabeth had given him just that. She hadn't thought about how much her heart would ache with desire and admiration for Jason after truly giving herself to him, and she definitely hadn't explored the consequences either.

Sighing, she caught her reflection in the mirror and let out a shaky breath as she laid her hand against her stomach.

Did Jason even want this?

If there was even something to want.

This was precisely why Lulu and Carly had warned her about giving into something she wasn't ready for, though she had to admit she now understood why they were sneaking off and having scandalous evenings of their own.

Being with Jason was thrilling in a way she never imagined, and she couldn't help but wonder how differently their lives would be had they met under different circumstances. Of course, he would be the same man, so unwilling to commit, but hopefully still drawn to her, and that was something in itself.

"Are you planning on hiding in here all night?"

Her eyes snapped to Jason's reflection in the mirror, and her fingers tensed against the skirt of her dress. She'd retired to her bedroom shortly after Johnny, Nadine, and the boys had left, still overwhelmed by everything going on.

Jason's comment about children didn't help, and her head had been spinning every since. She thought that if she lay down for just a while, it would stop, but it only continued, and she wasn't sure what to think about any of this.

"Well, it – it is my bedroom," she stammered, swallowing hard as she slowly turned on her stool to face him. "A gentleman is supposed to knock before he enters-"

"I thought by now you'd realize I'm hardly a gentleman," he teased, crossing the room, his hands tucked into the pockets of his pants. "But if you'd like me to go-"

"No," she interrupted firmly, surprised by her desire to have him near. After all of this, she couldn't imagine him not being close to her. It felt wrong to invite him into her room, to have him stay here of all places, but it wasn't as if he hadn't before. It was different to have him in _her_ bed, and she wondered if he'd had the same kinds of thoughts about her staying in his. "I'd like you to stay."

"I'm sorry if talking to Johnny and meI upset you. I warned him not to ask you questions, but he didn't listen, and I hate-"

"He was asking what was necessary," she sighed, sucking in a breath when he kneeled down in front of her. "Selfishly, there are other things that worry me more than – than my father." It was a terrible admission, but one that she could see reflected in his eyes. "I promised myself I wouldn't be so committed to the idea of a future…with you, and now…"

"This hasn't turned out like either of us expected," he confessed, placing his hands on her knees and skimming his palms up to her thighs. She trembled instantly beneath his hands, her mind wild with the possibilities that could come from this. "I'm afraid I still dislike the idea of – of being a husband, of having the dependency and amount of care that it takes to be _with_ someone, Elizabeth. And I-"

"I understand," she whispered, dropping her gaze to her lap, and shoving the romantic thoughts from her head. "I would never ask you to sacrifice your happiness in return for-"

"Will you allow me to finish?" he interrupted gently, his lips turning up in a slow grin. "It's impossible to talk to you sometimes, you know."

"Well, if you didn't take so long to say someanything," she hissed playfully, her heart relaxing inside her chest. She sighed heavily and lifted a hand to his face. "Please, finish. I promise not to speak unless it's necessary."

"That shouldn't take very long then," he murmured, chuckling under his breath.

"Oh, Jason,, must you always be so-" She paused, pressing a slender finger against her plump lips. "Please, finish."

"I dislike the idea of it all," he repeated, reaching out to tilt her chin in his direction, giving herim no choice but to look at her. "After my accident, I learned that people – the ones who care for you and love you – they can let you down in unimaginable ways, and I vowed to never feel that kind of distrust again."

"And you, you're honest and caring in the most unselfish of ways, and from the moment I met you, I knew you were more giving than I ever could be. Just look at all you've done for your father."

"Jason, that's different," she said, biting her lip and sighing heavily. "Forgive me, finish. I won't say another word."

He grinned, slipping his hands over hers and squeezing them gently. "You are everything that I never wanted, and somehow became everything I-"

"Sir?"

Swearing under his breath, Jason gave her an apologetic look as he moved to his feet. "What?" he barked, jerking the door open and glaring at Spinelli.

Elizabeth couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor boy and his terrible timing.

"I must speak with you in private," he muttered, sneaking a glance at Elizabeth. "It's a pressing matter and-"

"Forgive me, Elizabeth, but I must-"

"No, it's quite alright," she nodded, getting up from the stool. She could already see the tension in his face; worry lines on his forehead and tension in his jaw. "I think I'll get ready for bed. Will you – will you come back?"

The corner of his mouth hitched as he started out the door. "Always."

**********

"You're absolutely positive this is true?" Jason asked, raking a shaky hand through his hair as he paced the length of the hallway.

Normally, he wouldn't have discussed such matters in the open, but he assumed with Sonny downstairs and Elizabeth safely in her room, no one would be listening. And honestly, he couldn't bring himself to put any kind of distance between him and his wife.

"Yes, the move has been made, and I imagine it will break in the press either tomorrow or the day after," Spinelli replied, frowning heavily. "Sir, I am so sorry. If there is anything I can do for you…"

"You can not speak a word of this to anyone," he said firmly, narrowing his eyes at the small man. "No one is to know about this."

"There isn't much time. I understand that you are trying to protect Fair Elizabeth, but she's going to know soon. Very soon, in fact, I-"

"I will tell her, but not like this," Jason interrupted, pausing outside her door when he heard the floor creak on the other side. He knew she wasn't the type of woman to listen in through the cracks and spaces, but she was terrified, and fear could make a person do anything. He couldn't blame her for wanting to know what was being said in the hallway, but he _wanted_ to be the one to tell her. "Your word, Spinelli, no one can know."

"Sir, it will be in the papers tomorrow-"

"And there won't be a paper for Elizabeth to read. I'll go to Johnny in the morning and…" He scrubbed his hands over his face, not sure what exactly he would do, but knew that for tonight there was nothing. "I'll see Johnny in the morning. And then I'll go to town. I'll – I'll fix this. I promised her I would."

Shaking his head, he turned towards her bedroom door, giving Spinelli a long look over his shoulder. "Be ready in the morning. We'll leave as soon as the sun is up. I'd go tonight, but…"

He couldn't leave her, not now, not knowing that she needed him, and he needed her. At least one _last_ time.

"I was wondering if you were coming back," Elizabeth teased, grinning from where she sat in the center of the bed, pulling a silver handled brush through her hair. "Is everything alright?"

She sounded so innocent and naïve and he knew she hadn't listened because if she had, she wouldn't be this calm. "Nothing that can't wait until morning," he said, easing himself down on the bed beside her.

"That's a relief," she murmured, tucking her curls behind her ears. She laid the brush beside her on the bed and drew her knees to her chest, her knees peeking out from the silk robe, making it very apparent that she hadn't exactly dressed for bed.

"Elizabeth," he groaned, unable to fight the urge to reach out and touch her. Her skin was like velvet beneath his hands, so soft and plush, and he wanted to fall into her.

"Aren't you going to finish what you were saying before?" she asked, her breath hitching as she fell back on the bed, her hands reaching to pull him with her. "I promise I'll be quiet and listen."

He swallowed hard as he held his weight over her, careful not to crush her as one of his hands fumbled with the sash at her waist. "I'd rather show you," he murmured, tracing the slope of her breasts with a single fingertip. "And I'm afraid that requires you to respond."

"Well," she whispered, her back arching off the bed when his hand closed over her breast, desperate to push the soft mound against his rough palm. "I suppose we could – could talk in the morning."

He grimaced at the mention of the morning, which she noticed, but he moved quickly, taking her mouth in his and not giving her the chance to question him. He kissed her hard, drowning in the warm silkiness of her tongue against his as both sets of their hands struggled to pull away his clothing. He couldn't help but wonder if she could feel his desperation to have her, if she knew that something was coming and everything would change yet again before it had the chance to settle. When she pushed his pants over his hips, her own arching towards him, he knew that the morning didn't matter because she was just as desperate to have him.

Their moment was rushed, not slow like he wanted, and he did his best to commit it all to memory. How soft her skin felt against his, how alive she made him feel with the stroke of her hand, and how she panted his name as he slid inside her. Everything about her felt new; the way she smelled, the taste of her hardened nipples in his mouth, how she tightened around him with every thrust.

"Jason," she cried, clinging to him as she came apart in hiser arms, her body trembling beneath his hands. He followed soon after, burying his face in her hair as he grinded out his own release. Soon after, he started to pull away, but she held her hands around him, forcing him to fall against her, their hearts beating against one another's chests.

There was so much that he wanted to tell her, for her to understand, and he hoped that all of this was enough for her to comprehendunderstand. She was everything he never wanted, and now she'd become everything he neededwanted., and Hhe wasn't sure how he could ever walk away from this, and hated knowing that he might not have a choice.

Some promises were made to be broken, and unfortunately, he would have to break hers.

**********

"Sonny, did Jason say where he was going?" Elizabeth asked, frowning at her breakfast plate when the servant placed it in front of her with a warm smile. "I woke up this morning, and he was….well…" She trailed off, her face flushing as she realized she was admitting to sleeping with him, and that seemed like hardly an appropriate topic of conversation to have with her surrogate father.

"He left early," he answered, smiling warmly, "but I hardly doubt you have any reason to worry."

Smoothing her cloth napkin out in her lap, she nodded, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "He didn't wake me or leave a note or anything…"

She sighed, nibbling her lip as she thought about how he'd acted last night. How he'd switched from being so determined to _tell_ her how he felt to _showing_ her. Not that she necessarily minded, but it was very clear that something was going on, something bigger than he wanted to admit, and she was too caught up in him taking solace in her to care.

"Won't you join me?" she asked, looking over at Sonny as he started to leave the room. "I'd rather not eat alone."

"I'd like that," he smiled, walking around to the other side of the table. "Things have been so hectic around here and we haven't been able to spend much time together."

"Yes, I know," she agreed apologetically, poking a fork around her eggs. She wasn't very hungry, but knew she couldn't be rude and not eat. "Jason isn't working you too hard, I hope."

"He's only requested that I cook," he laughed, picking at a pastry.

"I can't blame him for that," she grinned, taking a bite of the eggs. They were slightly cold, but she continued to eat them anyway. "He'd cook himself I think, but he's been so preoccupied."

"Well, newlyweds are allowed their time for such," Sonny teased, flashing his dimples. He always had a way of making her feel surprisingly comfortable, and that was more than what she needed right now. "Jason is a very good man, Elizabeth. I can see that he makes you happy."

Shrugging, she continued to poke around her plate. "Yes, he does, but I can't help but anxiously wait for it to all be over."

"You shouldn't think that way. Times may be difficult, but he obviously-" He stopped mid-sentence, his head turning in the direction of the doorway when a soft knock filtered through the house. "I better answer that."

"Of course," she nodded, watching as he made his way from the room, curious as to what he was going to tell her.

How could it be so obvious to everyone else what Jason felt when she was so confused by it all on her own?

Frowning, she pushed her plate aside and grabbed a muffin from the overflowing basket in front of her. She nibbled quietly, listening as Sonny talked to someone, their voices coming closer and closer to the dining room.

"Forgive me for interrupting breakfast," Johnny said, appearing in the doorway. His eyes flashed to the plate across from her. "Is Jason home?"

"No," she answered, shaking her head as she wiped the crumbs from the muffin on her napkin. "Sonny joined me so I didn't have to eat alone." She scooted her chair back and stood up, gesturing to the table. "You're more than welcome to have something. Sonny tends to cook more than necessary."

"I've never heard any complaints before," he laughed, looking back and forth between them. "Should I leave you two alone? Or are you here to see Jason?"

Johnny tensed, clearly not sure if Elizabeth would mind being left alone with him or not, and she couldn't help but find the entire thought extremely silly. "You can leave us, Sonny," she said firmly. "Is here fine or would you rather talk in the study?"

"This is fine," he replied hesitantly, waiting until Sonny had disappeared from his sight before moving towards the table. "Mostly, I – I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I realize that I may have overstepped my bounds by questioning you about that awful night, and it wasn't my place. Jason warned me, and he was rather upset when I didn't listen to him., and Yyou've been through enough already."

"Johnny, you didn't do anything wrong," she sighed, motioning for him to sit down as she took her seat again. "It's a very complicated situation for all of us. I really dislike that you and Nadine were drawn into my problems."

"Any problem of Jason's is a problem of ours," he shrugged, brushing it off. "He's just so protective of you, and I can't say that I blame him, but sometimes he tends to be so methodical and unemotional…I don't believe he wanted to see what was really there, what really happened that night."

"He likes to believe in the best in people," she agreed, settling back in her chair. "Mostly the ones he cares about, I think. He doesn't like to think that I'm capable of what I did-"

"He doesn't like that someone was capable of hurting you," he corrected gently, tugging at the collar of his shirt. "Jason has always been a difficult person. He feels things so differently than everyone else, deeper, I suppose. He expects good and truth and he knows it doesn't exist, but when the people he expects it from the most disappoint him…"

"His family," she offered. "He is definitely complicated."

"After the Quartermaines treated him so horribly, he shut down," he started to ramble, and Elizabeth couldn't understand why he was telling her all this. "He told you about the accident?" She nodded. "If he had things his way, he would have no ties to London whatsoever, including me and Nadine. I suppose at first, I remained his friend out of guilt. I fought for his companionship after because of my role in his life, but not much has changed between us. We're better friends now, and I would still lay down my life for him if asked to do so."

Elizabeth couldn't help but smile, knowing that Jason would never ask such of his friend.

"He was so much like a child after his accident, so hopeful and excited, which I suppose comes with nearly dying. He only became bitter and angry after they pressured him to remember his old life, and I don't think he understood how to handle that anger. I still don't believe he does, and I'm afraid that – I don't know what he'll do if he can't fix this for you."

"You're scared for him?" she asked, slowly putting the pieces together.

"He ruined the Quartermaines. Of course, he had my help as well as my father's, and I don't know what will stop him from doing the same to Lansing." She sucked in a breath, the thought not having crossed her mind. "Not that he doesn't deserve it, but I don't know if he'll be able to stop himself. Jason cares for you so much Elizabeth, and your father, and this entire mess – he'd do anything to fix it and make it right, even if it's not by your standards."

Swallowing hard, she let his words sink in. "What's going on, Johnny? Is this why he's not home? He went to Richard once, and he nearly killed him," she cried, getting up in such a hurry that she knocked her chair to the floor. "Where is he?"

"Elizabeth, please, just calm down," he said softly, moving to his feet. "I shouldn't have come here, but things are – we honestly thought we could free Jeffrey because he was innocent. We didn't realize…"

"What is he doing?" she asked again, not caring about anything else in that moment. He looked at her blankly, his eyes dark and scared. "Tell me now or leave."

"Elizabeth, don't."

Her eyes flashed to the doorway where Jason was standing, his eyes tired, face strained. "Jason," she cried, rushing around the table and throwing her arms around his neck. She hugged him tightly, breathing him in for just a moment before pulling back and looking at him, her eyes filled with questions. None of which he would answer until she asked. "Where were you?"

"I went to see Johnny this morning, and then I went to town," he answered, loosening his arms from around her as he looked at his friend. "I know that you're worried, Johnny, but-"

"This isn't just your life and Elizabeth's anymore," Johnny reminded him, hanging his head. "I helped with your investigation, with getting you in to see Jeffrey, and now…"

"Are you in trouble?" Elizabeth asked, pulling herself out of her husband's arms and walking over to him. "Does Richard know?"

"I don't regret my choices," he replied seriously, staring her in the face. "Jeffrey is important to me, as are you and Jason, but we have to decide what comes next together or else someone we don't want to will end up taking the fall."

"What aren't you telling me?" she asked exhaustedly, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "I just – please, someone tell me what is happening."

"Elizabeth, the last thing I want to do is upset you," Jason murmured, stepping up beside her and sliding his arm around her waist. "I went to see Johnny this morning to see what our options were;. iIf there was a way we could stop it or a way around it., and I don't think we have much of a choice for what has to happen next if we're going to free Jeffrey."

"What?" she asked, turning into his side and resting her head on his shoulder. She felt faint, overwhelmed, as if the walls were closing in around her. She was vaguely aware of Jason's voice as he continued to talk, and it only took one sentence to bring her to her knees on the floor beside him.

"Your father goes to trial in two days."


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

_London, 1820…_

"I want to see him," Elizabeth murmured, barely aware of how Jason lifted her from the floor to one of the cushioned dining room chairs. He brushed a stray curl from her face, his hand lingering against her cheek until she pulled away. "I want to see Richard."

"No," Jason replied, refusing to even allow her to think for a moment that such a thing was even possible.

"I want to see him," she repeated, smoothing her shaky hands over the knees of her dress, her lip quivering as she fought to hold in her tears. "I have every right to see him, Jason." She shifted her eyes to his, the rims pooling with tears. "Are you forbidding me from it?"

She was challenging him; would he tell her no, pulling his weight as her husband to keep it from happening? Or would he allow it?

"No," he said again, pacing back and forth in front of her, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I – I don't want you to see him."

He was surprised at his inability to forbid this from happening, but he wouldn't make Elizabeth do something she didn't want, which was why she had to see his side of things.

"But _I_ want to," she pressed, fisting the skirt of her dress in her palms. Her eyes fluttered closed, tears slipping through the lashes. "I can make him listen – make him understand. I can-"

"I saw your father this morning," Jason interrupted, hating to break the news to her this way, but not knowing how else was he going to get her to listen.

"What?" she gasped, looking between him and Johnny. "Did you know where he was?"

Johnny nodded hesitantly, clearly not wanting to be the cause of more tension between the husband and wife. "When he came to see me – when he told me that your father was going to trial-"

"Elizabeth, Johnny thought that we should discuss the pending trial with your father," Jason cut in, kneeling down in front of her, his eyes begging her to listen. "I didn't leave with the intentions of seeing him, and we weren't even sure if Johnny's connections could get us inside the jail, especially now."

"But they did," she said, cradling her face in her hands. "I can't imagine how terrified he must be of what's to come. He has to know that Richard will go – he'll want him dead for this."

Jason couldn't deny the accusation. Everyone knew; people in town, Johnny and Nadine, even the papers were all but declaring the once upstanding doctor already dead. "He's not afraid of dying," he shrugged, still amazed at how peaceful Jeffrey seemed to be with what was coming. "He's terrified forof you – of what will become of your life after this. I told him that you promised to leave and-"

"I'm not leaving," she interrupted, pushing herself to her feet and stepping past Jason. "I refuse to sit here and let – _I_ did this. I have to talk to Richard and make him understand."

"Your father wants you to stay out of this," Jason said firmly, wishing they could avoid a fight, but nothe didn't expecting anything less from his wife. "You have to leave London, Elizabeth. You have to go somewhere else. Anywhere that you like, and I promise that your father will follow-"

"What about you?" she cried, narrowing her eyes at him. "I may have promised to leave London when this was done, but it's not yet, and you promised that you weren't going to sacrifice…" She shook her head, her eyes shifting to Johnny's, and then back to Jason's. "This is why you came, isn't it? Are you going to turn yourself in, Jason?"

Clearing his throat, he moved slowly to his feet, not sure how to answer her question. There seemed to be no other choice. Either he confessed to the crime or Elizabeth would, and he refused to let her take the fall -, and that was if Lansing was even willing to let him.

"You weren't here. You and I didn't know each other," she ranted, throwing up her hands. "Richard will laugh you out of his office. He won't give a damn about your confession because it will mean nothing."

"Or it will mean everything," Jason murmured, glancing at Johnny and tossing his head towards the door. "If you could excuse us, I'd like to talk to Elizabeth alone."

He was angry with his friend, but now wasn't the time to confront Johnny for going behind his back and coming to Elizabeth. He understood that it was done with the best of intentions, and that he wanted to keep the wrong person from paying for the crime, but in this situation, there was no right criminal.

"You should go," Elizabeth agreed, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at her husband's best friend. "Go home to your wife and your children, and do not help Jason anymore with this."

"Elizabeth," he hissed, shaking his head.

"He's gotten himself into enough trouble already," she snapped, ignoring Jason's protests. "Johnny, you've done more than enough and my father is appreciative, I'm sure. I know I am, but you can't do anything more. I won't risk you getting into anymore trouble, and what happens now – well, I believe it's up to those really involved. And as I've said, I don't want you getting into anymore trouble."

He just looked at Jason, obviously torn between disagreeing and hurrying away as she demanded.

"Elizabeth is right," Jason spoke up reluctantly. "I've been selfish in asking you to help when there is so much at risk. Lansing is already checking into your connections and how you've poked around his case. It's better if you back off for now."

"What about tomorrow?" he asked, grimacing the moment the question left his lips. It took every ounce of restraint that Jason had not to hit him immediately.

"What is tomorrow?" Elizabeth asked, her eyes wide. She took one quick look between them and instantly put together the pieces. "Are you going to Richard, Jason? Why – don't you understand how completely-"

"Johnny, thank you," Jason interrupted, ignoring his wife as he ushered his friend out of the room. "If you wish to accompany me to the meeting tomorrow, that's your decision, but I advise against it."

With that he turned back into the dining room and closed the doors, wincing as Elizabeth swore under her breath. He supposed her anger was better than any hysterics this news cwould have brought on. "Elizabeth, please, let me explain."

"Explain?" she cried, clasping a hand to her mouth when she started to cry. "How can you – you promised you wouldn't do this."

"I'm not confessing to anything," he said, correcting her assumptions, though he'd thought about it. Of course, there was a chance that Lansing would allow him to take Jeffrey's place, and Jason wasn't sure if he could say no.

Jason hadn't been in town, let alone ever met Lucky Spencer, but this wasn't about the murder. It was about his wife, and who had her, and how much of her Jason had. None of the logistics mattered as long as Lansing took Elizabeth's husband away, leaving her with a broken heart and a formerly accused murderer for of a father. No man in London would want her, and she and Jeffrey would be outcasts while Jason rotted away in prison. Or worse, was hanged. Either of which would break her heart, but she and her father would be safe, and that was what mattered.

"You can't do this," she murmured, shaking her head at him. "You can't let him manipulate you – not the way he did me and my father and Lucky. It's all a game to him, Jason."

"I came to free Jeffrey. The first promise I ever made to you was that this would be okay, and I am going-"

"It would be okay as long as with you and my father were both safe," she stressed, crumpling back into the chair she'd just gotten out of. "But not – not like this."

"You don't even know what will happen tomorrow," Jason pleaded, kneeling back in front of her. He tried to take her hands but she jerked away, scooting the chair back when he started to touch her again. "Elizabeth, we don't have time. We thought there would be – I thought your father was innocent – I didn't realize that I married you and…"

"I was a murderer," she spat, her dark eyes flashing to his. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands and narrowed her eyes. "Well, you did, and I won't let you become one too."

**********

Elizabeth was used to being a lot of things by other people's assumptions. After Lucky's murder, they called her names, the kindest being whore, but and she always refused to let herself believe she was any of them. They didn't understand the circumstances that everything had happened under, and while she may have killed a man, she wasn't a liar and a cheat.

Until now.

Swallowing hard, she pressed her forehead against the side of the carriage, trying to ignore the churning in her lower belly. "He will never forgive me for this," she sighed, her eyes fluttering open to look across the seat at Sonny.

The servant grimaced slightly, reaching over to pat her on the hand. "Jason cares for you, but sometimes those that care for you make the wrong choices. You're trying to stop him from making a mistake."

"And what if I make one in the process?" she asked, closing her eyes again when Sonny gave her no answer.

She'd returned to her room shortly after her argument with Jason, stomping the entire way up the stairs and slamming her bedroom door forcefully beforeand locking it. He wasn't welcomed to be in her room or presence until he came to his senses, and unfortunately, she knew that was not going to happen.

Like Johnny had said, Jason felt things deeper than anyone else. He thought meticulously, always steps ahead of those around him, and he wouldn't go to Richard unless he _knew_ that there was a way to save Jeffrey. Her husband was stupid if he thought his wife would believe he was going to have a cup of tea and sort this out with the man who had put all of this into motion.

No, Jason was going to figure out a way to turn himself in, and if he was breaking his promise, then so would she. Though technically, he hadn't forbid her from seeing Richard, only saying that he didn't want her to, and well, that left the door open to all kinds of ways out.

So she sat in her bedroom, veering back and forth from hysterical crying to rough, loud bits of anger that forced her to smash everything she could get her hands on. It seemed that nearly every time she calmed down and started to make peace, Jason would appear on the other side of the door, trying to convincing her to open it, and she became a mess all over again.

It wasn't until Sonny came, long after the sun had gone down, begging her to open the door and take the tray of food he'd made. She was reluctant, sure it was a trap, but the servant promised her it was nothing of the sort. Upon opening the door, she found Sonny, a silver tray of food, and an empty hallway, which prompted her to usher the servant quickly inside and beg him to help her fix this.

She was no idiot and knew that with the right set of eyes and pout, she could convince Sonny to do wonders. It was how she snuck cookies and cakes as a child and how she kept a stash of candles in her bedroom so she could draw late into the night. She was a weak spot for the old man, and while it made her as selfish and insensitive as Carly and Lulu to use him, she'd really been given no other choice.

And that was how they'd ended up side-by-side in the carriage, en route to Richard Lansing's house at half past eleven.

Sonny had tried to talk her out of leaving, but she threatened to sneak out and go alone. He'd gotten angry for just a moment, and she feared he was going to wake Jason, but he asked her to give him enough time to round up the carriage and a driver first. She wasn't sure how he acquired a member of Jason's staff to drive the carriage, and she almost stopped herself when she realizedknew the poor man would most likely be fired, or worse, but she knew that she couldn't stop now.

She had to see Richard and she had to fix this before she lost _everything_ that mattered to her.

"Elizabeth," Sonny murmured, squeezing her hand. She lifted her head and looked out the window, surprised to see that they'd already made it to town. Had Jason woken up yet and realized she was gone? How long would it take him to find her? "We're almost there. I have to ask, are you sure you want to see him alone?"

She nodded, smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt and patting her pinned up curls. "It's the only way he'll listen to me. If I would have come with Jason, he would have seen me as nothing more than a beggar and not listened to a word I had to say."

"I'm afraid you're right," Sonny sighed sadly, opening the carriage door after they rolled to a stop. He slid from the seat and held out his hand to help her out. "Elizabeth, you have been nothing but good to me in every way – you and your father."

She smiled warmly as she shook out her skirt. "You've been like a second father to me, Sonny, which is why I appreciate you doing this tonight. I know that Jason will be angry, but I won't allow him to fire you or send you away."

"I don't think you'll have much of a choice," he muttered quietly, holding out his arm. She slipped hers through his, her grin widening as they walked around the carriage and up the stairs to Richard's large mansion. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Sonny, I understand why you're worried about me being alone with him. I assume that he knows the truth and I only want to make him understand what really happened."

"You'll wait?" she asked, lifting her hand to the door knocker as he stepped away from her side and started back down the stairs.

"I'm going to send the carriage away so we don't draw attention," he murmured, speaking to the driver in a low voice as she knocked one more time.

Her hands trembled when she heard someone fumbling with the lock on the either side, and she began to worry about waking him up in the middle of the night,, and if he'd be angry to see her. Though if he was pleased, she supposed that should worry her too.

"Ms. Webber," a tiny, grey-haired servant said upon opening the door. He flashed a grin that made his eyes twinkle and motioned her into the foyer.

"Thank you," she whispered, afraid to disturb the silent house. "I realize it's rather late, and if Richard isn't awake-"

"He's waiting for you in his study," the man interrupted, walking swiftly to her side and nodding in the direction of the room at the end of the hall.

She could see the faint glow of candlelight beneath the door, but something kept her from moving forward. "Waiting?" she asked, the tension that was buried in her stomach slowly spreading throughout her body. She felt the need to leave, to go back to the carriage, to be in bed next to her husband, but suddenly Richard was standing in front of her, his lips pulled in a tight smirk.

"For – forgive me," she stammered, dropping her gaze to the floor, "I realize it is rather late, but upon hearing that my father was going to trial, I wanted – I needed…"

"To confess?" he filled in, leaning towards her, the stench of whiskey heavy on his breath.

The smell was so strong it made her eyes flutter closed, made her head tip back, and she started to stumble on her feet. "I – I shouldn't have-"

"Uh, uh," he clucked, grabbing her by her arm when she turned abruptly and started for the door. "You came for a visit, Elizabeth, and I have to make sure you get a proper one."

"No, I just – I wanted to talk about my father," she murmured, falling back against his chest, when his arm snaked around her waist, pulling her against him. His hands were too familiar, too strong, too much like Lucky's, and before she realized what was happening, they she waswere in the study, the door closing behind them.

"Relax," he said softly, releasing her as he flicked the lock on theher door. "I'm not going to hurt you, but I must admit, I've been waiting on this visit for some time now."

"You're sending my father to trial," she replied, determined to stay focused on the reason she'd come here. She wasn't going to let him shake the walls she'd put up the entire way. If he knew – had even the slightest idea – about what occurred that night, he would try to use it to get her to confess.

"He'll be hanged," Richard shrugged smugly, leaning against the door. "For a crime that I don't believe he committed."

"Then why – why arrest him?" she asked, slumping onto the edge of the desk when she backed into it. She braced her hands on the edge to hold herself up, looking around the room for another possible exit. Of course, there wasn't one, and the only way out was through him.

"He confessed," he replied, slinking towards her, "and honestly, I thought you'd come to your senses. I didn't believe you'd marry the first man that came along, especially one like Jason Morgan, and trust that he would free your father."

"He knows my father is innocent," she murmured, stiffening as he came to a stop in front of her, slowly leaning forward and resting his hands on either side of her.

"Does he know that you're a murderer?" Richard pried, causing her to flinch at the warm stench of his breath.

"You don't know what – what happened that night," Elizabeth replied, holding her eyes on his, refusing to let him win.

"Tell me then," he challenged, his palms pressed against her thighs. "I imagine that Lucky, in his drunken stupor, came onto you – that you fought him off -, and the exact events are complicated, but what matters is that someone died in the end, Elizabeth. And I would have fixed it for you-"

"I didn't want you to fix it, but I knew you would never treat me fairly," she interrupted, suddenly sliding off the desk and pushing him away.

"There's my confession," he laughed, grabbing her by the arm and jerking her towards him again. "Now I just have to decide what to do with it."

She swallowed hard and inched away from him, trying to ignore the smell of his breath. "Let me go, please."

"So, what? You can walk away?" he asked, dropping his face so it was next to hers, his lips brushing over her ear. "You can go back to your husband? Let your father take the fall?"

"What's my other option?" she asked, clenching her jaw as she glared at him. "Stay with you?"

"You say it as though you're disgusted by the thought," he grinned, tightening his grip on her arm.

"I'm very much taken, and a man like you doesn't want a used woman," she replied, failing to jerk herself out of his grip.

"Yes, you'll be another one of the many women that Jason Morgan has conquered, and if you weren't a murdering whore, I'd send you back to him," Richard sneered, backing her towards the wall, and all but slamming her against it. "You've confessed Elizabeth-"

"I did no such thing," she cried, bucking against him, which he seemed to enjoy. His hands were on both her wrists now, pinning her back against the wall, and the position was all too familiar, and the panic that rose through her body bursting from her mouth in a scream. "Sonny!" The shrillness of her cry ripped from her throat, and Richard flinched briefly, but not enough for her to catch him off guard. "Sonny! Help me!"

He chuckled and shifted on his feet in front of her, his smirk returning. "He's not going to save you."

"Sonny!" she screamed again, wiggling against him, but she was pinned too tightly to do anything. "Sonny! Please!"

His laughter grew louder as he nuzzled the side of her face, his breath hot against her ear. "Why do you think he brought you hereear so willingly, Elizabeth?"

"No," she spat, disgusted by his accusing tone. Sonny was waiting outside for her, and he'd hear her and… "You're lying, you son of a bitch."

"Naughty words for such an upstanding woman," he scolded, his hands so tight around her wrists that he was sure they'd bruise. "Maybe some time in jail would suit you."

Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to cry, not wanting him to win his game. "Sonny!" she screamed, suddenly defeated as her chest heaved and she fought to catch her breath. Taking a deep breath, she cried out one last time, his name leaving her lips in a sob, only to be answered by silence.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

_London, 1820…_

"The decision is yours," Ric murmured smugly, his eyes trailing over her. "I can hand you over to the authorities tonight or…"

Swallowing hard, she looked away from him, determined to regain her composure. She was all but falling apart in his arms, and if she didn't pull herself together, he was going to win. "You – you don't want a woman like me," she stammered, swinging her eyes back to his.

Grinning, he arched his eyebrows, his hands loosening up on her just a bit. "That depends," he replied, releasing one of her wrists to lift a hand to her face. He stroked her cheek, delicately wiping the tears that were falling despite her attempts to hold them in. She shivered, her stomach churning at his touch, and she could only think of one other time she felt this repulsed. "In what ways have you given yourself to Morgan?"

"In more ways than you'll ever have me," she hissed, groaning when his hand tightened over her face, jerking her head towards him.

"Maybe some time in jail would do a little whore like you some good," he spat, his fingers all but clawing at her face.

"Anything that keeps me from being your whore," she retorted, thrusting herself forward and stomping on his foot. She used her freed hand to put some distance between themhim, ripping, and his hand ripped away from her face like a bandage being torn. Turning on her heels, she rushed towards the door, swearing as she fumbled with the lock, not surprised when his arms were around her, pulling her away. "Please, just let me go!"

"You're a criminal now," he reminded her, turning her slowly in his arms. She pressed her hands against his chest, trying to push herself away, but it was hopeless. "Isn't this why you came here?"

"No," she whispered, shaking her head so fiercely that she could feel the pins of her curls coming loose. "I came here to – to talk to you because you've always listened to me, and I thought…" She clenched her eyes closed. "I thought I could make you understand because despite how twisted or horrid of a man you may be…"

Sighing, she opened her eyes, not surprised to see that his eyes had softened and were filled with curiosity. It was a cruel manipulation, preyingto prey on his feelings for her, but it was all she had left, and honestly, it was what had brought her here tonight. "Until tonight, you've always been kind to me, Richard. Maybe not Lucky or my father, but…I never understood why you acted the way you did last winter. You never even questioned me about what happened."

She was barely making seinsce, and surely he was aware of this. Her father and Sonny had all but decided exactly how the night would go before Richard and the other officers arrived. Maybe in a way, they'd created this situation, but she wasn't stupid enough to think that Richard would try and walk away without something.

"My motives are what they've always been," he admitted quietly, his eyes darkening.

_To have her. _

He didn't even have to say it.

"I – I have a husband. I don't – don't want anyone else," she stammered, her lips quivering around her words.

"Very well then," he sighed, running his hands down her arms and gripping her wrists. "Elizabeth Web – Morgan, you are under arrest for the murder of Lucas Spencer."

"Very well then," she mocked, hanging her head as he clasped her wrists together at her waist. "If it takes being locked in a cell to get away from – ow!" She stumbled backwards when his hand collided against her face, and she knew she had pushed him too far onceall over again.

She tried to ignore the blood that stained her hand when she wiped her mouth with the back of it, focusing more on getting away from him than anything else. She had intentions for this visitcoming here , and, clearly, he had many of his own,, which she'd yet to understand.

Terror ripped through her in a fierce shiver as Richard came towards her, and she cried out for Sonny again, knowing he wasn't going to come, but grasping for some kind of hopebut it was all she had left. She had to believe that he would hear her, that Richard was trying to force her into hysterics. Not that he needed to – she basically confessed in a roundabout way, and he would twist it in court and lock her away for as long as he saw fit.

_Forever. _

Her father would be a free man again, but he wouldn't be capable of practicing medicine, and he'd be shunned in the same way she was. Unless Richard kept him imprisoned for being an accomplice, but something told her, Jeffrey would beget freed, so he could reap the horrors of having a daughter locked in the same place he'd just gotten out of.

She couldn't bear to think about Jason;, how he would count this as an an epic failure, and never forgive himself. Surely, her father wouldn't blame him for this and would understand that he had nothing to do with any of it. And, hopefully, Jason wouldn't hate her. He would understand that she was trying to help, but she knew that wouldn't be enough to keep him from being devastated.

Richard would keep her from the two people who truly wanted her, and that would be the biggest punishment of all. It was either imprison Elizabeth or both Jeffrey and Jason, and she walked right into his trap because Sonny allowed her to go. He hadn't even tried to talk her out of it. Before she thought it was hiser charm and his adoration, but now – he barely hesitated, just asked if she was sure, and then was very so quiet the entire ride, which wasn't like Sonny. They always talked for hours about anything and –

_No. _

It was a lie.

It _had_ to be.

She snapped back to attention when Richard's hand wrapped around her arm, her other reaching to grab onto something – _anything_ – asand suddenly the door to the study started to break. The sound of splintering wood filled the room, and Richard released her, and turned away in a hurry.

"Elizabeth!"

She crumbled at the sound of his voice; her feet giving out beneath her, her heart swelling in her chest.

"Elizabeth!"

His voice was strained, shaky, terrified even, and she lifted her eyes to find Richard digging through his bookshelf. He pulled down a small wooden box and propped it in the corner of his arm so he could sift through it.

"Elizabeth, are you-" Jason's voice cut off as the door swung open, taking the doorframe with it.

His eyes found her immediately, jaw tightening at the sight of her curled against the desk. He started towards her, his shoulders slumping with relief. His eyes were soft and tired, and she knew he was anything but upset, and that the only thing that mattered was that she was alrrlight.

Everything was going to be okay; he would fix this, he would make her safe again, and she would forever regret this choice. She started to scramble to her feet, but remembered Richard, her eyes darting to him where he stood in the corner of the room, and that was when she saw the glint of silver in the candlelight as he turned towards Jason.

"No," she screamed, moving to her feet, her arms outstretched as she stumbled against Jason. She felt Richard behind her and curled against her husband, waiting to feel the knife, but instead she feltfeeling nothing but air as Jason spun her away, shoving her towards the broken door.

"Run," he hissed, wincing as he turned back to Richard.

Her eyes widened in horror when she saw the slender knife that was stuck in his shoulder. She started to reach out, to try and help, but Richard moved quickly, hitting Jason in the side where he'd been stabbed by him not very long ago, and he doubled over in pain.

"Jason!" she cried, holding a hand to her mouth when he fell to the floor.

Clearly, she and Richard both underestimated him because hehe moved in a hurry, throwing his entire body against the man. It was enough to catch Richard him off guard but he didn't lose focus, and somehow Jason ended up slamming against the wood floor. His shoulder arched up, the knife digging deeper into it, and she knew she had to do something.

Closing her eyes, she braced her hand against the broken doorframe, trying to forget how familiar this scene was;, how it had been less than a year since…Her eyes flashed open when she heard Jason yelling for her to run, but how could she leave him?

Shaking her head, her eyes swept across the room, looking for something. This could end differently than it had before, but if she didn't help Jason, it might end in the worst way of allof all ways.

Another low groan filled the room and without thinking, Elizabeth rushed forward, grabbing one of the iron candlesticks from the edge of the desk. She hesitated for the briefest of moments, but then she looked at the two men wrestling on the floor, and she was slamming the base of the candlestick into his shoulder. The blow wasn't as hard as it should have been, but it was enough to stun Richard, and she hit him again, harder this time, right and in the back of the head. His shoulders slumped and he let out a loud groan as he collapsed on top of Jason.

"Oh, God," Elizabeth whispered, the candlestick slipping from her hand and rolling across the floor as Jason pushed Richard's body off of him. The man turned onto his back, his head rolling from side to side, eyes closed. "Richard?" She slowly fell to her knees, cradling her face in her hands. "Richard? Richard, please?"

He didn't move.

**********

"Elizabeth," Jason growled, slowly pushing himself up from the floor. He braced himself on one side so that he could reach around and painfully pull the knife from his shoulder. He tossed it to the floor without looking at the blood and tried to ignore the searing pain that shot through his upper body.

He groaned as he started to his feet, freezing when he heard a soft whimper from where his wife was crouched against the desk. Her face was in her hands, her shoulders pulled tightly around her as sher, and she was trembledling.

Swallowing hard, he glanced at Lansing from where he laid on the floor, and then back at Elizabeth. She had saved his life, saved the life of someone she cared about again, and she was obviously afraid she'd murdered the man in the process.

"Elizabeth," he repeated, but she shook her head, scooting faurther away, practically shutting down in front of him all over again. After all the time he'd spent waiting so patiently and letting her open up to him on his own, she was falling apart all over again.

"No," she cried, when he reached out to touch her again, the word bursting from her lips in a sob. "I killed him. I – I…"

He hung his head in defeat, not sure how to fix this. So much of what he touched and promised was falling apart, and he was afraid wouldn't be able to save her.

If only he could understand why she'd come here, why she'd snuck away with Sonny and came to see Lansing as if she could do something that Jason couldn't. She cared too much, too deeply, and was worried that nothing was going to pan out the way it was supposed to, but Jason didn't have the heart to explain everything to her. He only told her what was necessary, refusing to let her know that Lansing wanted nothing more than to lock her away for the murder, despite the crime being self-defense.

Lansing wanted to hurt Elizabeth in the worst possible of ways, and if that meant taking everything that she loved, then so be it. With her father and husband imprisoned, she wouldn't have much else, and it made Jason want to rip the evil man apart with his bare hands. IAnd if the bastard he couldn't take away everything she loved, thenand then he would take her away from the people that loved her.

It was a foul way to work,, but it didn't surprise Jason. People did the most insane and cruel things in the name of love, without ever realizing how wrong they truly were.

"Jason, we have to-" Johnny's His eyes snapped up as Johnny he rushed into the room, stopping mid-sentence as he took in the scene before him.

He knew it was wrong to involve his best friend after he and Elizabeth all but forced Johnny away earlier that day, but he had no where else to turn. When he gave into his desire and need to see Elizabeth, letting himself into her room after she failed to answer her door, he found it empty. Her bed, her balcony, every spare room that she could be, was completely empty, and he knew without so much as a second thought exactly where she had gone.

"Is he…" Johnny slowly stepped towards Lansing, crouching down as he neared the man's still body, two slender fingers reaching for the pulse point on his neck, his eyes on Jason's. "He's alive."

"Thank God," Jason muttered, scooting himself across the floor towards Elizabeth, who was oblivious to the statement. She looked so frail and scared, so broken by what had just occurred, and he was relieved that he _could_ fix this. "Elizabeth, you didn't k – he's alive."

When she failed to respond, he reached out and jerked her hands from her face,, and then slippinged an arm around her and pullinged her against him. She cried out in protest as his hand ran up her back, his fingers wrapping gently around her neck, forcing her to look at him. "He's alive...and you – you saved my life," he said thickly, pulling her face against him. "You saved me."

"He's alive," she whispered, burying her face in his shoulder as she cried, her body shaking against him. "I'm sorry, Jason. I'm so sorry. I thought I – I thought he would listen, but…"

"It's okay," he murmured, brushing his lips against her loose curls, which he assumed had fallen out at some point during her argument with Lansing. He heard her screaming as he came into the house, her deafening cries for Sonny, a man who had been nowhere in sight. He didn't want to think about what had happened before he arrived;, what Lansing had said – or worse -, _doneid_. "It's okay. You're safe now. He won't _ever_ hurt you _ever_ again."

Jason stumbled as he slowly moved the two of them to their feet, and Johnny stepped up beside him, prepared to steady them if necessary. Elizabeth pulled herself out of her husband's arms, wiping at her face as she looked at him with terrified eyes. "Jason, I – he knows what I did. I think – I think he's known all along, but he – he placed me under arrest. There's nothing we can do. I can't – I can't run."

"You can," he argued, shifting his eyes to Johnny, and knowing what was going to have to happen. "And you _will_."

"You're not listening," she said, shaking her head. "He arrested me, Jason. And – and he must have told someone else. I came here – I thought if I explained what really happened that night, he would understand. I didn't know – he said that Sonny brought me here on purpose." She closed her eyes and stepped into his arms again, burying her face in his chest. "I didn't believe him, but – but why else…I kept screaming for him and he didn't come. He promised he would wait."

Except that he hadn'tdidn't, but Jasonhe wasn't going to tell Elizabeth that. Not right now when it didn't matter, and they had to act quickly if they were going to keep Elizabeth safe. "Don't worry about Sonny or Lansing. I'll handle them both," he replied, running his hand soothingly up and down her back. "But as of now, you have to go. You have to leave London, Elizabeth. Just like you promised."

"No," she cried, jerking away from him. "Our promises are worth nothing now. You were going to-"

"We don't have a choice," Jason interrupted, looking at Johnny.

"The police are set to arrive any moment," Johnny added softly, silently begging her to comply.

"So we run?" she asked, her eyes welling up with tears. "We leave all this behind?"

"No," he corrected, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her towards the door. He looked back at Johnny for confirmation that his friend would be capable of handling the Lansing situation and the police should they arrive before he got back. "_You_ leave all this behind."

"What?" she asked, stumbling behind him as he guided her through the house.

She tried to jerk away, but he just held on tighter, telling himself this was how it had to be. Every time she pulled, pain rushed through his shoulder, but he had no choice except to fight it. His shoulder, his side, the few dirty blows he'd received from Lansing, were all wearing on him, but nothing hurt as much as what he was about to do.

"You have to leave," he said quietly, carefully hurrying through the darkened kitchen, remembering how Johnny said there was a servant's door on the far end that led to the alley at the back of the house. He could only hope that Spinelli was in place, and that the police hadn't been smart enough to surround the entire home.

"Jason, what is going on?" she cried, sucking in a deep breath as they stepped into the alley, and the cool night's air wrappinged around them. She stiffened as her eyes settled on the carriage that was waiting, and she dug her heels into the pavement as she tried to pull away. "You're hurting me. Let go."

He froze at her words, knew that despite how tight he was holding her, she wasn't in any pain. She simply wanted him to let go, so, what? She could run? Instead, he turned on his heels, loosening his hand as he brought his other to her face, and gently stroked her cheek.

"Please don't fight me on this, Elizabeth. I need you to get in the carriage and go with Spinelli," he said firmly, his heart tightening at the words, and he almost regretting ed them the moment they left his lips. "He will take you somewhere safe."

Her eyes darkened at his words, but they didn't stop her from nuzzling his palm, finding comfort in his touch. "I can't go anywhere without you," she whispered.

"You have to," he ordered, dropping his hand from her face and slowly pulling her towards the carriage. "I'm not asking you to go, Elizabeth. I'm _telling_ you, and if there was every something you obeyed me on, please, let it be this."

"No," she argued, stiffening as he opened the door to the carriage. He nodded at Spinelli, who climbed inside, his lips pulled in a taut frown. "I won't leave you so you can turn yourself in and…No, Jason."

"I'm not giving you a choice," he growled, knowing that his fierce demands were hurting her. "This is the only way I can fix this. You have to leave London or else Lansing is going to make trouble for all of us."

"Please," she begged, fisting her hands in his shirt and pulling him close, no longer caring about how tightly he was holding onto her. "Please, don't leave me."

"You're leaving me," he corrected gently, wrapping his arms around her. Closing his eyes briefly, he tried to remember the way she smelled, the velvety touch of her skin, the silkiness of her hair, and how his name sounded on her lhips. "I promise that I won't turn myself in, but you have to go."

"What – what will you do here?" she asked, still holding onto him. "There's nothing left. Just come with me, Jason. I don't – please, don't make me leave you."

"Your father," he reminded her, nearly losing any will to stay, but knowinnowinggew that eventually Elizabeth would resent herself and him for leaving Jeffrey behind gave him no other choice. "I promised to free him, and I will., and Wwherever Spinelli takes you – I promise that Jeffrey will come soon."

She nodded, hanging her head as she let out a low sob. "But you won't be," she said slowly, causing his stomach to churn. Her head lifted a moment later, her eyes settling on his. "Is this it? Is this the last time that I see you?"

"I – I don't know," he answered thickly, looking away from her, unable to see how much this was hurting her. He snapped to attention when he heard Johnny yelling for him from inside the house, and he knew time was running out.

It was as if the reality of their situation was finally setting in, and Elizabeth understood why she had to go, why Jason had to stay, and why there was nothing either of them could do to change any of it. "No, Jason. It can't be. I can't say goodbye to you – not like this," she pleaded, breaking down in his arms as he lifted her into the carriage. She held onto his shirt, refusing to let go. "Please, I don't want to remember us like this."

"I can only promise you that your father will find you," he replied, his voice breaking as he cradled her face in his hands. "And that I will do my damnedest to be with him, but if I'm not-"

"Jason, don't," she whimpered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"If I'm not," he repeated, stretching to press his lips to hers, "know that I – I love you, Elizabeth." He was relieved when she didn't look surprised, when her hands loosened their hold on him and she returned his kiss, so hard and deep that he knew she felt the same way, and probably had for as long as he did.

"I love you, too, and…don't," she whispered firmly, resting her forehead to his. "Don't act as if this is goodbye." Slowly, she released him, looking away as she began to cry harder, her voice carrying lightly through the carriage door as he closed it. "I will see you again, Jason."

Clearing his throat, he waved ahis hand to the driver, and stepped back from the carriage. It was by far easily the hardest thing he'd ever done, but he had no other choice. He lingered long enough to see the carriage off, to watch it move faurther and faurther down the alley, Elizabeth's soft cries echoing through the nightalley.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

_Six Months Later _

_Rome, Italy, 1821…_

"Fair Elizabeth?"

Sighing, she tipped her head in the direction of his voice like she did every morning when he found her sitting alone in a chair by her bedroom window.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like some breakfast?" Spinelli asked, clearly hoping this morning would be different from all the rest.

"I'd just like to be alone," she said quietly, her eyes settling on the garden. It was still recovering from a fairly harsh winter, the branches and bushes so dry and brittle. "Leave the tray if you must."

From the corner of her eye, she watched his shoulders slump, cringing when he frowned heavily as he slid the silver tray onto the empty table by the door, just as he did every morning.

It wasn't fair of her to be so cold to him when he'd only done what he was supposed to. His patience and understanding of her heartache had prevailed in the most trying of circumstances. He held her as she crumpled in the carriage, sobbing the entire way out of London, and he'd followed behind her as she paced and ranted in a field somewhere in North France. Not once did he raise his voice or speak tensely, and he never complained when she cried or placed blame in all the wrong places.

Spinelli had been the best friend she'd ever had, and she resented him for it -, all because _he_ took her away from the man she loved.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, the words so soft they died the moment they left her lips.

"Please, eat something," he begged, leaving her door opened as he left her room.

She knew that meant she would have a visitor soon; one who would sit beside her or kneel on the floor, telling her stories, funny anecdotes as he silently pressed her to eat. And she would, because his words were so kind and his demeanor so relaxing, and not long after, she would get sick, her stomach churning with the unknown.

It was no wonder that Elizabeth had become a fragile and sensitive woman in the last few months, and she hated that she was all but bedridden, forbidden by doctors to do anything but sleep and draw -, mostly sleep.

She hadn't been this way upon arriving in Rome. No, she'd made peace with the severity of her and Jason's situation somewhere during her travels. Her heart ached for her husband; to have her hand in his, to hear his voice, to have his warmth beside her as she slept, and she told herself that he would come soon after she was settled.

Jason had been vague about his life in Italy – not that she was surprised. He was not the kind of f man to boast of his riches, but even Elizabeth was taken back when she arrived at his estate and found all but a castle bestowed to her. His land went on for miles and miles, farther than she could see, and though Spinelli had offered to show her all that the Viscount was worth, she refused.

In fact, she hadn't seen most of the house, sticking only to the necessary rooms;. tThe parlor on the first floor by the entrance, but she hadn't been there in well over a month, and the kitchen, when she actually felt like sneaking out something to nibble on late at night. She'd ate a handful of times in the dining room, and even with Spinelli and others as company, she found it painfully lonesome.

She refused to see the garden, except from the window, and she refused to step into Jason's study, though her stomach fluttered with the possibility. Though it was tiny, he appreciated her father's, as well as her own, adoration for books, and she wondered if he had them from floor to ceiling like she often heard people of his stature did. The idea thrilled her, and she often fantasized about them lying in bed and reading all day, even if it meant they had to be terribly lazy.

It didn't feel right to see the house -, the sprawling estate with its hallways and rooms and wings -, without Jason. Even at his parents' home in London, he'd showed her around, and though she hadn't seen it fully in his eyes, until he learned what drove him out of the home, she had seen it with him, and she wanted that same experience here.

At first, Spinelli chalked it up to stubbornness, and he gave her time to settle into _a_ bedroom, but – not the master's – she wouldn't dare go near Jason's without him -, and she knew he was growing frustrated with her stilted way of living.

Honestly, she had all she ever needed in her bedroom. There was a well-equipped staff at her fingertips, willing to do whatever she needed. She had the best art supplies at her disposal, the softest of sheets, the fanciest of clothes, and she didn't want any of it.

They were not her husband, and they sure as hell couldn't replace him.

"You looked tired."

Her eyes swung from the window to the doorway, and she'd be lying if she said her heart didn't leap the tiniest bit at the sight of Johnny O'Brien. He'd been here the day the she arrived, explaining he was Jason's oldest friend in Italy,, and that he couldn't believe Jason had gone off and found a wife as lovely as she was. At first, she couldn't understand why Jason had never mentioned him, but she soon realized, and so much of his life in Italy was undefined.

The man was funny and brash, often inappropriate, making Elizabeth blush with the things he said, but he never failed to bring a smile to her face. She liked him mostly because they instantly became important to one another; she as his dearest friend's wife and heim as Jason's oldest friend, the one who had welcomed him into his new life after he'd fled London.

She felt guilty for wanting to be around him more than Spinelli, but she couldn't stop herself from feeling as though he'd taken her from Jason, even though nothing of the sort had happened. Mostly, she supposed it hurt to be around him. He was a reminder of the short-lived romance she'd had with her husband and how it had been taken away, and everyday that Jason didn't come home, Spinelli was a reminder that he may not because of what had happened in London.

Thankfully, though he could tell the situation was stressful and no one was sure of when or if Jason would be returning, Johnny never asked questions. At least not in front of Elizabeth, and if he knew the truth about Lucky and her father and Richard, he never showed it.

"I'm not," she murmured exhaustedly, smiling faintly as he grabbed the tray of food from the table and crossed the room.

"Hungry?" he asked, pulling up the stool that he kept next to the dresser. He sat down and rested the silver tray on his knees.

"Not really," she sighed, shifting her eyes back to the window.

The mornings were always the hardest, waking up and realizing that Jason wasn't here, that he hadn't come, and her stomach ached nearly all day until dinner, when she seemed to find the tiniest glimpse of hope in those around her. They all wanted Jason back as badly as she, and that was usually enough to suffice her worries. Wherever her husband was, he knew he had all of this waiting on him, and he wouldn't leave all these people hanging.

"The butter is fresh," he said, tearing off a piece of toast and popping it into his mouth. "It tastes good."

"You just like watching Maxie churn it," she teased quietly, rolling her eyes at the thought of the loud and boisterous blonde.

She reminded Elizabeth of Carly with more attitude and grace, and her name – Elizabeth just couldn't understand why her mother had named her something so masculine,, though it fit. She was always running with the boys, and one day Elizabeth had caught her wearing a pair of trousers as she went about house business.

Johnny really loved that.

"The way she holds that wooden stick," he groaned, grinning widely.

"Oh, Johnny," she laughed tiredly, waving her hand at him. "Must you always make things so-"

"Must you always ask if this is how I do things?" he interrupted, holding up a piece of toast. "Besides I think you like it. I keep things exciting around here. Why else would Jason keep me around?"

She cringed noticeably at her husband's name, but took the toast and bit into it eagerly to cover up. The butter instantly melted in her mouth, and even though her stomach was turning, it tasted good.

"I know that – that you miss him, Elizabeth," Johnny said seriously, his face hardening. It was strange to see the man suddenly so reserved. He focused on keeping her happy, and to hear him speak of Jason this way was unnerving. "He won't stay away unless he has to, which isn't very comforting…I – I hate to see you so sad all the time. Everyone in this house does, and we hate that we can't make you happy, when really you should be-"

"I am," she cut in, chewing intently. She swallowed hard, the toast rough in her throat. "I am happy to be married to a man who has all but given his life for me. And I am happy that I'm here, in Italy. I love this house. I love this country." Shrugging exhaustedly, her eyes filled up with tears. "But it's nothing without him."

Sniffling, she closed her eyes, refusing to break down in front of him again. He'd seen this side of her far too many times. "I don't even miss my father. I just want Jason. What kind of daughter am I?"

"One who loves her husband," Johnny replied, handing her his handkerchief when she started to cry. "Now, that's enough of this sappy stuff, Elizabeth." He scratched his chin as he arched his brow. "Did I ever tell you about the time Jason wrestled TThe Bear?"

"The what?" she cried, holding a hand to her mouth.

"It wasn't a real bear," he corrected, chuckling under his breath. "Everyone just called him that, and that was the day that Jason almost picked a fight with someone he couldn't beat."

He hesitated until she nodded for him to go on as she nibbled on her toast. If she couldn't have her husband, this was pretty damn close.

**********

Frowning, Elizabeth stretched her legs over the bottom steps, taking in the last moments of the sun's heat. She didn't do this often, but Johnny encouraged her to get out of her room for a little while, and she found herself sitting on the staircases, paper in hand, failing to sketch anything of real relevance. She kept her focus on the front windows near the doors, her heart lifting with every rustle and footstep outside.

Sadly, she'd learned the sound of Jason's feet all too well when they were in London. How heavy and exhausted he sounded as he moseyed about the house when he was upset with her, and how light his steps were when they were – well, she blushed at the thought. Here, the steps were lighter, airy even, as if they were trying to remain quiet and unnoticed. She supposed that had a lot to do with how Jason kept his home.

Spinelli's were the softest, and she imagined that had something to do with how he was always interrupting Jason in heated moments or tripping over himself. Like now, he barely stepped into the foyer without tripping over the edge of the rug.

"Dinner is almost ready."

"Thank you," she murmured, bracing herself against the banister as she pulled herself to the feet.

He moved nervously to her side, holding out his arm, and she slipped her hand through it, giving him a polite smile as she settled to her feet. "I really am sorry, Spinelli."

"You miss him," he shrugged, helping her down the few stairs to the landing.

"We all do," she sighed, squeezing his arm. "I know how pathetic I must appear. I'm not even really living anymore, I guess." She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "It's like I'm frozen – like I'm back to who I was before he came…"

She trailed off as he pulled her hesitantly towards the dining room, and normally she would have bucked, but tonight she wanted the company. Johnny kept her companystayed with her all afternoon, talking her to sleep, and she almost felt better, rejuvenated even, and she told herself she wouldn't lose hope until he did.

It was hard for her to explain to everyone how Jason changed her life, but maybe they already knew.

After the murder, she found herself stuck in a slow routine, everyday the same with the no surprises. Jason brought life back to her, even if it was in the most exhausting and frustrating of ways, and he reminded her that she could have everything she ever wanted, and that she wasn't faulted forever because of her mistakes.

And she just didn't know how she could go on without him beside him.

The toughest part of the last few months was not knowing where he was and if he was alright. She believed that by now her father was free and most likely on his way to Rome, but she had no idea what to think about Jason. He would have done anything to free her father, and it was selfish, but all she wanted at this point was her husband. She was glad that no one knew her thoughts because they were horrid for a daughter who once loved her father more than anything.

Sometimes she feared what would happen should her father arrive. Would she embrace him? Be overwhelmed with joy that he was free? Or would she resent him? See everything that it cost Jason to send Jeffrey?

It was all so exhausting. She was tired of thinking and worrying and wondering, and all she wanted was to curl up into a ball and pretend that none of this had had ever existed.

"What's for dinner?" she asked timidly, poking Spinelli in the arm when he failed to answer. He continued to look over their shoulders at the door, his brow furrowed. "Spinelli? What is it?"

"One moment," he apologized, pulling her arm from his, and crossing as he crossed the room to the front door. His posture straightened, his neck craning , and his neck craned as he unlocked the door and opened and pulled it open. "I'll be…" His voice trailed off as he shook his head and looked over at Elizabeth.

"What is it?" she asked, crossing the wide foyer. She pulled her shawl tighter as she neared the door, the chilly spring air making its way inside. The sound of the wheels against the dirt road was the first thing she heard, above the wind, above Spinelli's voice, and anything else. "It's a carriage!"

She stepped outside, drawing her shawl around her as much as she could, her heart tightening when as the carriage made its way up to the house. This wasn't the help coming in from town or some random visitor – she could see that much in Spinelli's eyes.

"Do you think…" She hurried down the front steps to of the house, crossing the yard, and racing towards where the dirt road stopped, her heart pounding in her chest.

She could hear Spinelli behind her, followed by Johnny, both of whom were encouraging here to slow down and not exert herself, but it was too late.

This was _the_ carriage.

She could feel it in her bones, her shaking hands, and her swelling heart. Jason had come home to her just as he promised. He'd done his damnedest and nhow they would be together.

"Elizabeth, wait," Johnny begged, stepping up beside her, his hand settling on the small of her back. "You don't know-"

"I do," she interrupted, her eyes widening as the carriage wheeled to a stop in front of her. She trembled all over with excitement, her eyes welling up with tears. She sucked in a breath as the driver slid off the front bench, nodding politely as he hurried around to open the door. "It's him, Johnny. I know it is."

"Oh, God," she murmured, a tear slipping down her cheek as Jeffrey stepped out. He looked rougher than she remembered; a scratchy beard and hardened face. Prison had clearly put years on his life, but now he was _free_.

It was like a dream to see him standing before her in his normal dress – part of which, what she remembered most. All that was missing was his doctor bag and pearly grin.

"Papa," she whispered, vaguely aware of how Johnny's arm tightened around her waist. Her father stepped forward, but she remained frozen, her eyes on the carriage.

Moments passed like hours, and Jeffrey was the only one who stepped out.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

_Rome, Italy, 1821…_

"You're nervous."

Jason lifted his eyes to the man's for just a moment, before dropping them back to his lap, not sure how he felt. He was relieved when the man didn't press him any further, and he knew it was because Jeffrey Webber was nervous enough on his own.

The last six months had been long and grueling, exhausting in ways that were maddening, mostly difficult because they were estranged from the one person they both longed to be with. It had been difficult to hide his feelings about Elizabeth from Jeffrey, and the man didn't seem surprised that Jason cared so deeply for his daughter.

If anything, he appeared relieved.

"It won't be long now," the driver called out, his voice carrying in thegently in the gentle wind that surrounded the bumpy carriage.

Sighing, Jason closed his eyes and rested his head against the window of the carriage, his heart tightening in his chest. He had waited months and months for this moment, and now he was absolutely terrified because he'd done something he promised not to.

He'd left Elizabeth alone.

Forced her out of London.

Sent her away with a stranger.

That night played continuously in his mind; her soft lips and desperate sobs, how sincere and true I love you had sounded coming from her mouth. There were days when it was all that kept him going and many where it made him want to end. He'd hurt her in ways he never intended, and he hated that his confessions had been too late, coming only when he was pushing her away.

Spinelli had been told ahead of time to take her to Italy, unless she was opposed and wanted to go elsewhere, but Jason doubted she would, and no word had been sent otherwise.

He only hoped that Elizabeth would understand why she had to leave London that night; that he was protecting her from Lansing and any punishment for the crime she committed. And he also hoped that after all this time she still hung onto his promises, believed he would come, and most importantly, loved him.

loved him, hung onto his promises, and believed he would come.

He really had done his damnedest.

The night had turned ugly after Elizabeth rode away, and all Jason could think about was whether or not Elizabeth made it safely out of the city. Police arrived before Jason or Johnny had much time to act, and he was hauled off to jail without hesitation by either officer, both of whom he remembered from that night at the pub. He spent two long months in prison. The beds were hard, the cell freezing, and his injuries became so infected, he was sure they'd kill him.

Lansing constantly baited him, tormenting him about Elizabeth, threatening to be on her trail, and bragging about what he would do when she was caught. How Jeffrey survived months and months in there, Jason would never know. Tbecause the time spent in his small cell was enough to drive him mad, and if Elizabeth hadn't been waiting, he would have given up completely.

Fortunately, Johnny came through as he always did, and Jason was released in exchanged for the man who had _really_ attacked Lansing that night in his home. What his friend had done to get the confession out of Sonny Corinthos, he would never know, and he didn't care to. The way he saw it, the conniving bastard deserved what he got for taking Elizabeth to Lansing that night, and handing over the woman who considered him to be a second father to her.

With Johnny's help, he managed a brief visit with Sonny, who tried to apologize and explain, but Jason wouldn't hear any of it. He made sure the man knew how he had torn Elizabeth's life apart and , ruined any chance of helping free Jeffrey, and giving her what she wanted.

"This is the road?" Jeffrey asked, tipping his head towards Jason as they turned onto a long, dirt road.

His eyes cracked open and he nodded, his heart tightening at the sight of his estate sprawled across the hillside. "This is home."

Shifting uncomfortably, he pulled himself upright, adjusting the sling that Jeffrey had put around his shoulder. It was a good thing the man was a doctor or else Jason may have actually died. It took him weeks and weeks to clean out the infection, leaving him bedridden, thus further prolonging his reunion with his wife.

Jeffrey was as eager to see his daughter as Jason, but he wanted to take his daughter's husband to her in one piece. She had probably worried about Jason enough already and deserved to enjoy her husband's reunion, instead of tending to him at his bedside.

"If I haven't said it enough, thank you, Jeffrey," he murmured painfully as he shifted in the seat, doing his best to ignore the shooting pain that ran through his upper body.

"Thank you," the older man corrected, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiled. "You saved my life, and more importantly, my daughter's." Sighing, he clasped his hands in his lap and looked Jason in the eye. "You love her."

It was a statement, not a question, but Jason could see he was eager to have his assumptions confirmed.

"More than I ever imagined was possible," he replied softly, the words shaky on his tongue as they neared the house.

"Good," he said pleased, leaning forward and looking out the window. "The house looks lovely. I'm sure she's been happy here."

He nodded, looking away in embarrassment.

What if she hadn't been?

"It's going to take me a moment," Jason murmured, doing his best to stretch in the confined space. Traveling had been hard for him, but he insisted on not waiting any longer, even if it meant stopping more often than he normally would have. Jeffrey nodded, his back to Jason as the carriage rolled to a stop, and he was thankful the man said nothing about his obvious fears. "You go ahead."

What would he do if she hated him after all this time?

"There she is."

Jason's head snapped up, and he leaned forward, continuing to ignore the searing pain in his side as he watched Elizabeth hurry down the lawn, her legs moving as fast as they could carry her.

She looked smaller than he remembered, frailer, and he knew that all of this had worn her out in ways he never imagined. Her dark, chestnut curls hung loosely and whipped around her face in the wind. She drew her shawl tighter to protect her body from the cold, but she didn't seem to mind the cool, spring weather. Johnny and Spinelli followed down the hill after her, and O'Brien stopped at her side, slipping an arm around her waist as if to hold her up.

Had she become _that_ delicate?

The driver opened the door to the carriage and Jeffrey slipped out immediately. Jason expected to hear her rejoice, but instead, he heard nothing. He moved stiffly in the seat, sliding across the bench towards the door in time to see her falling to her feet, her head in her hands as she cried out his name.

"Elizabeth," he called out raggedly, practically throwing himself from the carriage. He would have fallen to his feet along with his wife had the driver not reached out to steady him. "Elizabeth."

Her eyes appeared over Jeffrey's shoulder as he helped her to her feetup, and she ripped from his grasp and rushed towards Jason, throwing her arms around his neck. "Jason, you're here!" she cried, clinging to him as she sobbed happily.

Despite their audience, she kissed him everywhere her lips could reach; his neck, his jaw, his ear, his forehead, saving his lips for last where she kissed him with enough passion to _almost_ make up for their time apart.

"I was so afraid you wouldn't come," she sobbed, cradling his face in her hands. "I – I believed so hard, but-"

"It's alright, I'm here now," he murmured, slipping his arms around her and , reveling ion the feeling of her being in his arms again.

She was different though, more fragile than he remembered, softer even, and he sucked in a breath as he pulled her away to look at her.

"Oh, Jason," she muttered sadly, reaching out to touch the sling on his shoulder, but he barely noticed her touch.

His hands smoothed down her arms, over her sides, settling on her hips where they started to tremble before he touched her _round_ belly. "Elizabeth," he whispered, slowly falling to his knees. "You're – you're-"

"Yes," she interrupted, raking her own shaky hands through his hair as he pressed his face against her stomach, breathing her in.

"How long?" he asked, fisting his hands in her dress as he looked up at her.

"Nearly sSeven months," she replied, her eyes filling with tears. She crumbled, collapsing into his arms, and curling against him as he held her. "I've – _we've_ been waiting for you."

**********

"He's resting," Elizabeth murmured, leaning against the doorway of her father's room, overwhelmed at watchingto watch him do something as normal as unpacking what few clothes he had. "How bad are his injuries?"

"Better than they were," he answered, clearly not wanting to subject her to the horrors of what had been.

"You saved his life?" she asked, needing to know how close she'd come to losing her husband.

Both Jason and her father were being so cryptic about all that had happened, and she felt terrible for prying. They'd had a long trip, obviously gone through hell in London, so she shoved her questions aside, hurrying them into the house for dinner and a warm bath.

It was the most she'd eaten in months, the strongest her appetite had been, and she barely made it through dinner without crying every time she looked at her husband. To see his face, the blue eyes she remembered so well, and to hold his rough hand in hers – it made the pain of being apart for so long worthwhile.

Especially when he'd realized she was carrying a child.

It wasn't long after arriving in Italy that she became sick, bedridden with what Spinelli believed to be a horrible flu, and Johnny had rushed off to town to find a doctor, who laughed at their diagnosis. Elizabeth scoffed at his assumptions, mostly because she couldn't bare bear the idea of carrying Jason's child without him there, and within a couple months, she realized the doctor had been right. They called him back for another visit, and he scolded Elizabeth for stressing over her husband, who Johnny said was away on private business.

The month after that he forced her to bed, telling her she needed absolute rest and to keep down more food than she was, or else her child was going to be in danger. As if she didn't have enough to stress about, she lived in fear that she was going to hurt her child, and Jason would never forgive her.

Spinelli and Johnny watched her closely, monitoring what she ate and reporting it back to the doctor. At first, she felt attacked as if they were conspiring against her, but she understood that it was really about taking care of their friend's wife and his unborn child.

Some days she couldn't bring herself to get out of bed and face another day without Jason. She managed to get used to the idea that he would miss the pregnancy, but what about the birth, and being the first one to hold their child.

Or worse, would the baby even know its father?

Not that any of those fears mattered now. They ceased to exist the moment she saw Jason over her father's shoulder, and the way he held her let her know that he was never going to leave her again.

He really did love her, and perhaps, that was the most comforting thing of all. To know that despite where they were, together and apart, they would always think of the each other.

"Papa?"

"Elizabeth," he sighed exhaustedly, closing his suitcase as he turned to look at her.

"I have a right to know what happened," she said softly, not wanting to argue with her father. "He's my husband."

"You've grown," he commented, smiling as he sat down on the bed and motioned for her to sit beside him. "When I left you were only a girl, trying to figure out what she wanted in life, and now…"

Her eyes filled with tears as she eased herself down beside him, her hands resting against the sides of her stomach. "I hope that despite how all of this began – I hope that you're proud," she murmured.

"You've becoame an exceptional woman, Elizabeth," he said, gently wiping the tears that slipped from the corners of her eyes. "I will always dislike _how_ you became this. You didn't deserve to go through something so difficult, and I ask myself daily if I made the right decisions."

"You did," she replied, leaning over to rest her head on his arm. "You – you brought me Jason." She grinned as she noticed his hand twitching hand and reached over to bring it to her stomach. His eyes lit up as he felt the soft kicking against his palm. "Are you surprised?" He looked at her. "That I – that I married Jason, that I'm having a child now."

"I wasn't sure it was possible at first," he admitted, dropping his gaze to her belly, "but I wanted to believe it was. You needed someone to show you how strong and good you are, and no one was more capable of that than Jason."

"I do love him so much," she whispered, starting to cry all over again. "And I was so afraid he was going to break his promise – that he would turn himself in." She sucked in a breath when her father remained quiet. "He didn't, did he? How else were you freed?"

"Elizabeth, a lot happened," he replied quietly, returning his hand to his lap.

"If you rather I talk to Jason, I understand," she murmured understandingly. "I would just like to know what happened when I left London…and how you were freed."

"I see," he sighed, tipping his head towards her. "Things happened that I know you won't like, and from what Johnny told me about your condition-"

"I'm with child, Ppapa," she corrected, arching her eyebrow at him. "That's hardly a condition."

"There's that grown woman again," he commented, nodding in agreement. "From what I understand, the night that you left London, Jason was arrested."

"For what?" she asked, her eyes widening. "Not Richard? I was the one – I hit-"

"It didn't matter to Jason. He's your husband, and he was going to protect you," Jeffrey interrupted gently. "Richard was aware who hurt him, and he didn't care that you weren't arrested."

"Jason was a perfect way to get to me," she murmured exhaustedly.

"He did his time, and Johnny worked fervently to free him," he continued. "Elizabeth, you won't like this."

"Like what?" she asked worriedly. "And how long was Jason in jail?"

"Two months," he answered, shaking his head. "And the only reason he was freed was because of Sonny."

"What?" she asked, holding her hand against her mouth as she thought back to that night.

"Sonny took you to Richard because he was supposed to," he said spitefully. "Michael had gotten into some trouble, and Sonny was offered a deal if he could get you to – to confess." He reached over and tucked her loose curls behind her ear. "You don't appear surprised."

"Richard told me, and I didn't want to believe it, but…" She shrugged it off, feeling rather numb about the whole situation. "It may not be the fairest of exchanges, but Sonny did things that are equally cruel as committing crimes. Or maybe I'm so sick with love that I don't care about anyone else…" Her cheeks flushed as she trailed off. "Doesn't that sound awful?"

"No, it sounds like a woman in love, who's willing to do whatever it takes for her husband," he replied honestly, smiling widely. "That makes me very proud."

"And the rest?" she asked, ignoring blushing at his comment. "How were you freed?"

"Elizabeth, I'd rather not-"

"Papa, please," she begged seriously. "I need to know."

"I don't want to upset you, and I'm not sure if it's my place," he murmured worriedly, clearly thinking about her husband.

"I'll be spinning stories in my head if I don't learn the truth," she pleaded, hanging her head. "And if my father can't tell me the truth – who, then who else is there?"

Sighing, he nodded reluctantly and pushed himself up from the bed. "Richard and Sonny are brothers," he said, stopping in front of the window.

"What?" she asked, starting to move to her feet, but she felt too weak to move. Thankfully her father failed didn't to notice.

"Brothers," he repeated, soundings as confused as she wasdid. "I never knew, and he worked in my home nearly your entire life."

"From an affair, I assume," she murmured, rubbing her hands against her belly as the baby kicked inside her. Her father was right; getting upset now wasn't a good idea. She'd have to keep calm for her and Jason's child.

"I don't know the specifics," he shrugged, turning to face her, "but I do know that's why Sonny confessed to hitting him that night in his home. He had the perfect motive, some horribly twisted family secret, and it – it was why he confessed to – to killing Lucky too."

"What?" she cried, clenching her jaw as her stomach tightened.

"Elizabeth, I told you this was a bad idea," he murmured, kneeling down in front of her.

"I'm fine…I just – Sonny – is he in prison?" she asked, torn between being relieved that her father and Jason were safe, and feeling guilty for Sonny having sacrificed herselfhimself.

"For the time being," he answered reluctantly, reaching out to touch her stomach. He smoothed his hands over it quietly, clucking his tongue. "You're too tense, sweetheart."

"It's a lot to take in," she sighed tiredly, taking a deep breath. "Will Richard have him hanged?"

"I don't believe so," Jeffrey replied, nodding for her to continue breathing deeply. "Sonny is Richard's brother, and I don't think – despite how evil he may appear – Richard will kill his own brother, especially when it doesn't benefit him in anyway."

"He doesn't think we care about Sonny enough to hurt over him," she murmured, the tightening in her stomach slowly uncoiling. "You're free, Jason's free, and I'm free – what is left?"

"Exactly," he said, dropping his hands from her stomach and moving back to his feet. "I'm afraid we'll never go back to London though."

"Richard's waiting for me, isn't he?" she asked dryly, rolling her eyes and not needing Jeffrey to answer. "He'll be waiting a long time because I have no intentions of leaving Italy."

"Something told me you would say that," he chuckled, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead. "There is more, but I've already said too much. I may be your father, but you have a husband now."

"Yes," she agreed, holding out her hand so he could help her to her feet. "And I'm sure he needs tending to."

"Elizabeth," he scolded gently, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Papa," she mocked, stretching to kiss him on the corner of the mouth. "I'll be sure and put the help to work for once."


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

_Rome, Italy, 1821…_

"Good morning," Elizabeth murmured, gently raking her husband's sweaty hair from his forehead. "Did you sleep well?"

"Mmm," he mumbled, smiling lazily as her hand roamed over his face. He'd forgotten how soft and warm her skin was and how it felt against hisis.

"I take it that's a yes," she grinned, leaning over to brush her lips to his forehead as his eyes fluttered open.

"Did you?" he asked, reaching out to stroke her swollen belly with the back of his hand.

"Yes," she replied, shivering when his hand slipped beneath her robe and pressed against her bare skin.

"Still sleeping with out clothes," he teased, his eyes darkening. He almost felt guilty for finding his wife so desirable, for wanting her thisthis much after everything he'd put her through. It'd been too long since he'd touched her and held her, and that was all that he wanted to do.

She blushed and laughed nervously under her breath. "I didn't leave your side much last night, and eventually I dozed off," she answered, her voice shaky. "I – I woke up and took a bath this morning, and Spinelli just left breakfast at the door. You should eat."

"As should you," he pointed out, slowly pushing himself up against the headboard.

Sighing, she reached for the tray of food on the nightstand, scowling when her protruding stomach got in the way. "It's frustrating," she admitted, scooting off the bed so she could get it. "It's good for propping some paper, but even then, it makes sketching terribly uncomfortable." Pausing, she eased herself back onto the bed, setting the tray between them. "Not that I would change any of it."

"I missed so much," he whispered, holding his hand out to her. She took it willingly, allowing him to pull her into his arms ass, and she settled against him, the tray of food resting crookedly on her stomach. "I will make up for all of it, I promise."

"You owe me nothing," she said seriously, handing him a piece of toast that was covered in jam. "We made promises and we kept them. It's in the past now."

"You're more reserved about all of this thahen I thought you would be," he confessed, gently combing his fingers through her damp curls.

"I was sad for months and months," she replied, tipping her head back to look at him. "I don't want to be that way anymore, Jason."

Her eyes fluttered closed as they filled with tears, and he eased the tray from her stomach, tossing his toast aside as he pulled her into his arms, his stomach churning when she started to cry. He hated to see her so distraught, so broken, but he wanted her to tell him how she felt – that she hurt and ached and was even furious – and he didn't want her to hold anything in.

"I'm so sorry," he said softly, burying his face in her hair as she curled against his side. "I never wanted to send you away, Elizabeth, but there was no other way." She nodded as he pulled her face away, cradling it gently in his palm. "We will _never_ be apart again."

"I was so afraid that you – I can't think about the things you went through in order to come back here," she sobbed, every tear cutting into his skin. She wasn't supposed to hurt like this. "I went to my father and he – he told me everything about Sonny and Richard and you – oh, Jason, you were in prison, and I didn't even know."

"None of that matters," he said firmly, holding her tighter. "I don't want you to feel guilty about any of this. What happened – it cannot be changed, and though Sonny hadn't committed the crime-"

"At least, his brother won't sentence him to death," she murmured exhaustedly, giving him an apologetic look. "I know that Sonny – what he did to me was wrong, but I would never want him to die because of it."

"I suppose that is where we are different," he sighed, kissing her hair. "Your father told you everything?"

"Well, about you – you being in prison," she said, tearing up again. "And Richard and Sonny being brothers. How Sonny traded himself." She sat up suddenly, her eyes widening. "Oh, I didn't even think. How are Johnny and Nadine? He didn't get into any trouble, did he?"

Jason hesitated too long, and she fell apart all over again. "Elizabeth, it's okay. They're fine. He didn't get into much trouble, but they decided – they left London too."

Eventually he would have to tell her everything; how Lansing had arrested Johnny for nearly a week when he found out he was trying to track down Sonny. Nadine had been heartbroken and would have strangled Jason had she been able to get her hands on him. Ultimately, she was the one to find Sonny, and while the specifics were hazy, Johnny was released and he convinced Sonny to fix this before his choices tore everyone else's lives apart.

That didn't stop Lansing from coming after the husband and wife, and they decided it was best to pack up and leave London too. That much, he knew Elizabeth would feel guilty for, and she didn't need that on her shoulders. Johnny and Nadine didn't regret their choices. He knew that for sure because he and Jeffrey had stopped off to visit them, and thankfully Nadine had calmed down enough to express her relief that everyone was safe.

"Where did they go?" she asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

"They went to France. Nadine has family there, and we visited them on our trip. Stayed for a couple of weeks actually because of my wounds, and they promise to come to Italy next summer," he said, hoping that would soothe her.

""This – it's torn everyone's lives apart," she whispered sadly. "Nadine loved London as much as I did, and Johnny – his family was from there."

"But Nadine is his family now, and I don't think they give a damn where they are as long as they are together," he said firmly, running his hand up and down her back. "Just as I would go through everything again if it meant I would end up here with you." She eased back, settling into his arms again. "You shouldn't think about what I,myself or anyone else, haves been through. Your times hasve been hard too."

"I missed you more than – I didn't think I could hurt worse than I did with my father, but – Jason, there were so many days that I didn't even want to-"

"Me too," he cringed, hating that she had been that heartbroken, that desperate, to not wake up, but he knew the feeling. "I knew you were waiting and that made it okay."

"I know what you mean," she agreed, smiling through her tears. "So you – you aren't upset by any of this?" He didn't quite understand. "I was afraid you'd feel caught off guard to find me…like _this_."

"Elizabeth," he sighed, slipping his hand beneath her robe to touch her stomach. "I know I made things complicated by telling you I wanted you, but that I didn't want – I didn't want you forever."

He kissed her forehead, her cheek, the tip of her nose, and lastly, her mouth, his lips lingering longer than he intended, but she wouldn't let him go. "But I – I do wanthat you forever, and the way I treated you-"

"You were allowed to feel that way, Jason," she interrupted gently, and he was relieved that she seemed to understand what he was saying. "We didn't start out on the best of terms, and we were entirely unbearable on our best days, but…"

"But I loved you, even before I realized it," he murmured seriously, staring her in the eye. "And I will always love you." He paused, pressing his hand firmly against her their child that was nestled inside her. "This child and any others that we have."

"Others?" she asked, placing her hand over his.

"As many as you would like," he grinned, so thankful that he could be here for this.

"As many as you'll give me," she replied, stretching to brush her lips over his.

She started to ease out of his arms, her eyes lingering on the bandage at his side. "It doesn't hurt as much as you might think," he said, covering it with his hand. "Your father has taken great care of me."

"I know," she murmured, "but I wished it could have been me."

"Me too," he sighed roughly, sucking in a breath when she reached over to stroke his side, her hand trailing up to his shoulder. "I love you so much. And I – I think I have all along." She moved her hand to his face and smoothed her thumb over his cheek. "I remembered, you know."

"Remembered?" he asked, nuzzling her palm.

"You," she replied, shifting so she lay on her side, her bare belly peeking through the silk robe.

He mimicked her position, cringing slightly as he braced himself, careful not to hurt his shoulder or side. "How long did it take?" he laughed, his fingertips grazing her skin. He couldn't stop himself from touching her and thinking of the possibilities that rested with their child.

"I didn't realize it until we were here, I'm afraid," she murmured, her cheeks flushing. "But the moment that Spinelli and I walked into the foyer, I remembered."

"The painting," he nodded, unable to hide how happy it made him that she did.

"It was after your accident," she said, telling the story as she remembered it. "I had spent the summer with my grandmother, and when I returned, you were there with Johnny and Nadine. I don't know why it took me so long to recall of it."

"You came into the room at the far end of the upstairs hall. Papa once used it for storage space, and I finally convinced him to clear it out so, and I could used it to paint. It had the brightest and softest lighting in the entire house," she murmured fondly, clearly missing her former home. "I was painting."

"I got confused," he laughed, shaking his head. "I was disoriented for a while after I woke up and somehow I ended up in that room."

"And you liked my painting," she grinned, stroking his cheek. "No one ever paid attention to my paintings but my father, and he was supposed to like them, but you – you genuinely liked it."

"Does it count if I didn't understand it?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

"There was nothing to understand because you felt something," she replied seriously.

"The colors – the streaks of them – they made me feel good, alive even, like I was seeing something for the first time," he murmured, closing his eyes as he pictured it in his mind. "I asked what it was and you said the wind. The morning that I left your home, you left the painting outside my bedroom door."

"Oh, gosh, you must have thought I was the silliest child," she frowned, embarrassed.

"You know that isn't true," he replied, leaning over to kiss her forehead. "It reminded me of London, of hope, and of Jeffrey. It was one thing I carried with me everywhere I traveled, and when I finally settled in Rome and bought this house, it was the first thing I hung on the walls."

"How I forgot that I'll never know," she said sadly, dropping her eyes from his face. "When I stepped into the house and sawy it hanging there, I – I remembered and I was so afraid I wouldn't get to tell you."

"None of that now," he scolded playfully, kissing her again. "You remembered, and you told me, and you can fill this house with paintings."

"And children," she murmured against his mouth.

"Lots of children," he agreed, slowly deepening their kiss, his stomach tightening when she returned his itkiss, her lips moving hurriedly, urging him not to hold back. "Elizabeth."

"You won't break me," she whispered, running her hands over his bare skin as she kissed him again. "I've missed this."

"I have too," he groaned, her hands settling at the waist of his pants as she traced a slow, seductive path to his tongue. "We can't-"

"We can," she murmured, pulling back to look at him with dark eyes. "You won't hurt me, and maybe it's selfish, but I want to be with you."

"The baby," he sighed, rolling onto his back when she gently shoved him. She fumbled with the clasp of his pants, undoing them in a way that was painfully slow;, her hand pressing against him in just the right spot. "We can't-"

"Can," she argued, slipping a hand into his pants and tugging them down with the other.

""We have to be careful," he growled, closing his eyes when his pants met his ankles, and she pumped him briefly in her tiny fist. "The baby-"

"Will be fine," she murmured, slowly straddling him, and laughing at how her belly seemed determined to get in the way. "I asked the doctor, Jason."

"You asked the doctor about this?" he asked, sucking in his breath when she untied her robe and let it hang loose.

"Yes," she murmured, a deep blush spreading down her face and over her chest. "I – I had to be prepared to give my husband a – a _proper_ homecoming." She didn't wait for a response, smirking as she shrugged the robe off her shoulders, revealing her creamy, swollen breasts. "Though I must admit I'm not exactly sure how to go about it."

"Well," he replied thickly, "I'm sure I can help you figure it out." Carefully, he pushed himself up, bracing his weight on one hand while he settled the other at her hip. "Are you sure this is alright? I don't want to hurt-"

"Remember what happened the last time you attempted to stop me from seducing you?" she asked, slipping her hands over his and not so subtly skimming it up her side to her breast.

"I believe I do," he rasped, gently cupping her breast in his palm, his breath hitching as her hands started to roam over his skin.

"Good," she murmured, cupping his face and pulling it towards her. "Maybe you've learned."

"Oh, I have," he whispered, taking her lips in his, not hesitating to part them, and take what he wanted.

She gasped when he nipped her lip, her nails scraping across his skin. Her head fell to his shoulder as he pulled away, his tongue tasting, remembering every inch it could touch.

"Jason," she hissed, arching upward as he rolled her hardened nipple between his fingers. "Please…"

"Please what?" he asked, gently stroking his way from her breast to between her legs. He groaned under his breath when he traced her slit, her slick heat letting him know how badly she wanted him. "Tell me, Elizabeth."

"Make," she paused, her breath hitching as she raked her fingers through his hair, pulling his head back to look at her. "Make love to me, Jason."

"I intend to," he said, kissing her gently as he skimmed a hand up her back, and fisted it in her messy curls. "For forever."

"Mmm," she purred, resting her forehead against his, her eyes glistening with tears. "And ever."

**The End**


	31. Chapter 31

**Attention Readers:**

I just wanted to let you all know that I will **no** longer be updating my fics on this site and that within the next couple weeks or so, I'll have the account removed in its entirety.

I have been having so many issues with uploading my documents from Word and the documents still containing tons of mistakes that aren't in the copy I have saved on my computer. I've tried countless ways of avoiding this, but it's still happening, and lately I've been getting lots of PMs/Emails/Comments about the lack of editing. It's as frustrating for me as it is for you to read, and I'm tired of not being able to fix it, especially when I spend so much time editing them.

I have a personal website with all my fanfics (as well as site exclusives) that you can find here linked on my author page. For some reason I couldn't link it here - just another reason to be pissed off with this site. You do have to register an account to read, but it only takes a few minutes. I send out email alerts every time a story is updated just like you receive on here or you can bookmark a thread to receive alerts when it's updated.

If you wish to continue reading the stories, you'll have to sign up for my site. I know it's inconvenient, but has proven to be more inconvenient than anything else for me, and I'm throwing in the towel.

Hopefully you're not too pissed off at me for doing this and I'll see you on the site.

Ambs


End file.
